The Narnians The Lion, the Witch, the Wardrobe and Beyond
by treehugger00
Summary: A series of short stories and vignettes encompassing the breeds and times of Narnia from Beruna to the end of the golden age.
1. Entree

(1,595 _ words_)

(I draw inspiration for my stories from The Chronicles of Narnia in all it's manifestations, both canon and non-canon).

**(revised)**

Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia are the intellectual property of Clive Staples Lewis and his legally recognized representatives. We come here just to play in his garden.

Warning: M rated for violence and drug use but mostly to give me some wiggle room.

**Entrée**

_**The Narnians**_

"The lion, the Witch, the Wardrobe and Beyond"

**In the beginning**

**In that time before time** Aslan approached his father, The Emperor-Beyond-The-Sea asking. "_Father over_ _time __I __have __made __for you_ _many worlds __populating __them with multitudes __of worshipers __to praise your glory__. If my labors __do __gratify__ you, might I __ask__ a boo__n?"_

The Emperor said to him._** "**__**M**__**y **__**he**__**art, **__**y**__**our efforts do please me **__**royally. Speak to me **__**then**__** of your entreat so that I may grant it."**_

"_As__ you__ will Father. I __wish for__ a __land to call__ my own, that I might __fill it with all man__ner__ of __creature to __praise my glory as yours do __you.'_ Aslan further expounded. '_I would have __for__ my __subjects __a __place where__ they might dwell__ free of want __and strife__ save to have their father always __at__ their side._

The firmament quivered with the Emperor's edict._ "**THIS CAN NOT BE ALLOWED! I SHALL NOT PERMIT IT!" **_Then with infinite tenderness the lord enlightened his son.

"_**The **__**empty **__**praise **__**of such untested **__**souls**_ **_is as satisfying as a drink of tepid water on a heatful day. My Son what inspires their adoration_**,**_ is it the love they hold for you or something else? I say unto you, better you should fill your kingdom with stone statues and set them to singing your glory then to suffer the empty praise of the faithless, _**Said the Almighty.

_**"Your **__**subjects **__**must **__**be given the opportunity to **__**prove themselves**__** before**__** you. **__**They themselves**__** must choose to**__** s**__**eek you **__**out **__**in **__**fair times and **__**foul**__**. **__**T**__**heir **__**resolve**__** tested in this way**_ _**will**__** reveal to You**__** their true hearts and**__** you **__**will**__** know them**__** from those who**_ _**seek **__**only**__** advantage. **__**Those**__** who desire**__** only gain**__** for themselves**__**, these**__** you will set**__** aside **__**leaving them to their fate. **__**The **__**ones who come willingly to **__**you, **__**t**__**hem, you will **__**gather **__**to**__** you and they will share with You**_ _**the**__** joy **__**of**__** your **__**true **__**kingdom, forever,' **_the King of kings commanded. '_**Therefore My son,**__** I say to **__**you**__**, maketh your **__**kingdom. M**__**ake**__** also **__**a **__**pale **__**imitation of th**__**at**__** p**__**lace and in that place **__**endowing**__** them **__**with**__** free will,**__** introduce to your peoples**__** great measures of gladness and **__**suffering. T**__**he faithful**_ _**by these**__** trials will make themselves known to you**__**,**__**" **_The Emperor so decreed.

_"__Father__ it shall be as you say __but __You __above all__ know__ many will be gr__ound down by__ the __millstone__ of the__ trials you would have me set before them. Ones who__ w__ish __to __be __faithful__ but who's spirits __will be __broken. __M__ust __they__ also __be__ sent __away with__ the other__s,__"_ Aslan questioned.

"_**My Son, truly**__** you are of **__**such **_ _**good **_ _**heart to **__**care **__**so for all your creation, **__**even**__** t**__**hem**__** who **__**know your goodness and **__**still they **__**turn away. G**__**reat shall be the**__** joy **__**in**__** your **__**kingdom**__** when one **__**who was lost does**__** find**__** his way **__**back to you**__**. **__**Y**__**our people**__** who **__**have always **__**kept faith with**__** you **__**and **__**taken**__** comfort in**__** your light, **__**t**__**he**__**m**__** and all **__**your creation will make a joy**__**ful**__** song on**__** the lost ones who have found their way back to you**__**. Now My Son, tell me, which of my creations shall be the patte**__**r**__**n for **__**your **__**world,"**_ Inquired the Lord of Hosts.

_"far_ a_nd wide__ have I __searched for a special people to call mine, Father. Enchanted have I been __by__ the __descendants of th__em __you called Adam and Eve. __I have visited them often__ and they are a __magnificent __contradiction. I have seen them at their best and at their worst. At__ their best __t__heir kindness and generosity would __rival __even that of__ a god_ _but__ a__t their worst, the pain and suffering they visit __up__on the lesser of th__em would __unsettle__ even a demon," _Aslan reflected.

His Father agreed. "_**Truly they can be a labor**__** my son, s**__**o it will be the seed of man who graces**__** your garden?"**_

_**"**__Father there is more. I have over time watched them perilously stumble down the dark road of ignorance guided only by the light of your wisdom. Throughout their history they have given rise to all manner of fanciful creature to help explain the world about them. Their children they do instruct, using fable and exemplum, the ways of their given communities. They have_ _i__n the telling __of these tales often_ _given__ voice to__ the beast__s of the earth__ and fowl of the air __in hope__s__ of __better __instructing__ and __enthr__a__ll__ing __the minds and hearts of__ their children_. Long _have I __wondered what kind of __society__ the__se __reveries might_ _create for themselves__ given the __chance__. __Possessing __both__ noble and bestial __traits would justice and compassion __prevail__ over__ their __mo__re baser_ _nature,__" _Aslan conjectured.

"**_A laudable notion My Son,'_** His Father agreed. '**_But I see issues with your design. Where the descendants of Adam for all their bickering are one people under the skin, allowing only_** _**t**__**heir **__**minor**__** differ**__**e**__**nces **__**to**__** set them apart from one another. **__**Your**__** children **__**will be of a **__**different**__** sort, l**__**ike beast of the grasslands**__** they **__**will**__** mingle **__**together**__** but also **__**will**__** they **__**hold themselves apart**__** each to his own**__** way**__**. **__**F**__**o**__**llowing none but their own **__**kind, **__**they will**__** lack **__**unity**_ _**never to**__** realize their **__**full potential**__**.**_

**"**_**Therefore I**_ _**decree,' **_Said the Lord on high_**, 'when**_ _**the **__**rightful**__** Sons of Adam and **__**Daughters of Eve sit **__**at their head, then **__**will **__**your peoples know **__**p**__**eace and prosperity.**__** I will in due time **__**open**__** ways for them to enter this**__** world, them **__**and**__** others who would follow**__**. **__**Now **__**My Son,**__** tell me, **__**what shall be **__**the name of your **__**kingdom**__**?"**_

Aslan without hesitation affirmed._ "It shall be a named for something that can't be named, something more like a feeling._ That_ feeling shared by a mother and her babe when first she holds it to her breast. The power that enlivens one of good heart to stand against overwhelming odds in defense of truth._ _The __earnestness experienced by those who__ choose justice over __expediency. T__he__ lightness __of spirit__ one knows __when __exer__c__ising__ leniency __over intolerance__. These virtues and many others will be the foundation stones upon which I will build my kingdom and in the f__ullness of time all will come to know the_ name, _'Narnia."_

The Lord queried,**_ "Then_** _**Narnia it shall be **__**but **__**I **__**would**__** know this of you my son, what worth do you ascribe to your Narnia?"**_

Aslan asked, "_If it would please you to elaborate, __Father."_

The Emperor beyond-The-Sea noted, "_**My Son, t**__**he most p**__**recious **__**of**__** gem**__**s and**__** the r**__**arest **__**of metal**__**s**__** are mere**__** dust to be tread**__** upon if valued only by the one who possesses them**__**. **__**How does one ascribe worth to a thing if no one else puts a price to it?**__** Will future labors I set for you **__**so preoccupy you**__** that **__**you forget your garden letting it**_ _**grow fer**__**al and brier choked in your absence**__**? **__**Willst**__** thou match the devotion one asks of his people," **_His Father challenged.

"_O, Father yes, set for me a task that I might prove myself,__"_ Aslan implored.

"**_Very well then. You are My heart, the physical embodiment of Me, the cosmos. By My will,_****_ chaos is made ordered and through You order is given purpose,'_** The Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea tenderly averred._ **'We together are omnipotent, beyond all challenge**. **I shall set for you a labor to test your resolve****. I will place in this ersatz garden a serpent and**_ _**she**_**_ will covet this new world, challenging your authority there._**

**_"I shall grant Her great power and many talismans. I will also lessen your authority in that place so that neither you nor her holds a greater advantage over the other. At the appointed time, armies You and She raise up will engage in great battle and through their efforts will the fate of your Narnia be decided,' _**proclaimed the Emperor. The Lord of all things continued. '_**The army of truth and light being triumphant, the serpent will be cast**_ _**from your garden to abide**__** in**__** that **__**limbo**__** between worlds**__**. A**__** reminder to all that darkness awaits the unwary."**_

_**"K**__**now this, My Son,' **_his Father warned, ** '**_**if your peoples are found lacking **__**in heart and s**__**ubstance and**__** flee **__**before the **__**host**__** of darkness and despair, the**__** ho**__**rde**__** will **__**fall upon**__** you **__**tearing **__**you**__**r flesh **__**asunder and you**__**r essence will**__** forever be barred from that garden. **__**Now My heart, will **__**you **__**put this **__**dream aside or do you accept the challenge**__**?"**_

Aslan without hesitation declared, "_I __will hold to my dream, Father_. _I go now to prepare the way." _

– – – – –

_Excerpt from Narnian catechism._ 1001 A.D. **(A**fter **D**igory**)**

**End note. "God does not play dice with the universe." Albert Einstein. "Every event has a cause." Me.**


	2. Death on the mountain

(3,668 _words_)

(I draw inspiration for my stories from The Chronicles of Narnia in all it's manifestations, both canon and non-canon).

**(revised)**

Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia are the intellectual property of Clive Staples Lewis and his legally recognized representatives. We come here just to play in his garden.

Warning: M rated for violence and drug use but mostly to give me some wiggle room.

**~~~ 1 ~~~**

**Overture**

God said, "Let us make mankind in our image and likeness and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, the cattle, over all the wild animals and every creature that crawls on the earth." Genesis 2. 26-27.

"Rise up King and Queen of Narnia. Father and mother of many kings that shall be in Narnia and in the Isles and in Archenland. Be just and merciful and brave. The blessing is upon you." From the coronation of King Frank the 1st, and Queen Helen. 2nd day, Narnian year 1

**~~~ II ~~~**

**The** **Cusp of Winter**

_W__ithin sight of slumbering Cair Paravel, out on the ice choked Bight of Calormen a breeze stirs to life. This flesh numbing apparition sets off westward up Glasswater Creek towards the Archen river. Along the way the temperature of this gale climbs steadily to almost the level of freezing. Past the Shuddering wood, unseen forces steer__ this wind in a more northerly direction. Over the river Telmar, beyond the Great River and Western woods at a place in Lantern Waste where a westward trail makes a turn to the north the dying zephyr stirs a few loose strands of hair on the head of a child. A female child_ _dressed__ in clothing ill suited __to__ the winter weather. __A very special__ child this one is, a kind not seen in the land for near a hundred years. A girl child approaching that_ _age when most_ _daughters of the land __are __putting __up__ their dolls __in preparation__ for __their __forthcoming__ passage into adulthood__._

_Pushing her way pass the snow laden branches of some yew trees, the child comes upon a most unusual sight. There, on the far side of the path stands an antique streetlight, it's cheerful luminescence helping to dispel the wintry gloom. The apparition's architecture brings to mind derelict examples she had seen dotting older parts of London. The vista before her seems somehow_ _oddly appropriate, like an illustration gleaned from a book of fairy tales. 'I must fetch the others here to play' She thinks. Pondering what to do next the child is shaken by the realization she is not alone!_

**~~~ III ~~~**

_Fur__ther to the north but still insanely close for a Daughter of Eve, two tormented hills flank__ an icy plain__. Issuing __forth__ from th__is __expanse under the ice is __a brook who's name by the grace of __the __creator __ha__s__ been lost in the mist of time. Th__e waters of __this __tributary_ _meander __their__ way__ southward to eventually__ weep th__eir__ shame into the Great River. __Back in the north, __that __desolate reach of ice and snow __is __dominated by__ a __fortress who's towers __b__ear__ a __striking__ resemblance to needle ice. T__hose __tiny strands of frost you__ sometimes_ _find __blooming __along country lanes on chilly__ morning__s__._

_S__tand__ing__ taller then a floor clock, the melancholy enchantress who rule__s __the land__ from this K__eep __is__ no daughter of eve. __This usurper settles onto her__ frost co__vered__ throne, __upholstered __for her comfort__ with__ the __skin__ of some unfortunate __narnian__. She s__louches__ forward_ and _rests__ elbows on the chare's ice encrusted arms. Lacing her fingers __together she cradles her chin__ on waiting __thumbs,__ touching_ _st__eepled finger __tips__ to her nose in contemplati__on__. She had earlier this day presented that tedious __fool __Tum__n__us __his weekly stipend of food before dismissing the lout__. __She __trust__ th__e__ delicious irony __of wrapping his gratuity as Christmas gifts wouldn't be__ lost on the sniveling lackey. All at once a __sh__iv__er__ r__un__ning between her shoulder blades__ unsettles the witch__. 'Something __is__ not __right' She thinks. '__I shall go out myself and check the Waste and the Wood come the morn__.'_

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

pages 1-3

**_The Narnians_**

"The Lion, the Witch, the wardrobe and Beyond"

~~~ Chapter1 ~~~

**Death on the Mountain**

**Once upon a time** **long ago** or maybe in days yet to come there was a land called Narnia. A magical kingdom locked in the throes of a frozen curse. Every tale must have a beginning, so let this one start here -

A band of smugglers battle their way up a boulder strewn ravine with another consignment of aid for the north. Minuscule ice crystals driven by the wind sting like tiny daggers and tug at the threadbare cloth wrappings they use to ward off frostbite. Archenland's green fertile valleys having been left behind, ahead to the north buried deep in the mountains the Inn at Midway village beckons. The promise of a hot meal and the opportunity to sleep out of the weather for a change spurs them on.

The sight of miniscule snowflakes hanging in the air as the wind retreated so captivated young Fain the sled's abrupt halt caught him completely off guard. Straightening, he looked over the cargo's canvas cover first to his father Tem, then beyond to two snow blurred silhouettes blockading the pass ahead.

Fain smiled as he recognized his friend Kinoe the oath breaker, one of the two minotaur who called Midway village home, the other one being his beloved mate Helria. The figure standing next to the minotaur, comically small by comparison had to be a red dwarf. A descendant of those refugees who built Midway village back in the beginning of what turned out to be the endless winter. Their survival in that place having been assured with the discovery of that dirty, vile smelling and life sustaining black rock, coal.

Tem with a wave of his hand beckoned his people follow. Turning slightly Fain planted his right hoof firmly in the snow and shoved against the load with his shoulder. The fauns, one on either side of him took up the cause bumping the hauler forward. The bear and badger up front leaned into the doubletree of the sleigh as they crept sluggishly up the hill.

Left hand resting on the cutlass sheathed at his side, cloak bellowing in the breeze as he strode ahead, Tem's progress through the fetlock deep snow was occasionally hindered by soft spots in the otherwise hard packed crust. Reaching the committee of two Tem turned to watch over his crew until they came safely to a stop a short way down the ravine. His attention turned back to his hosts, the smuggler captain transferred the longbow in his right hand to his left before gripping the proffered bracer bound wrist of his minotaur ally.

"By the horns of your ancestors." Tem tossed out the minotaur challenge in jest while at the same time vigorously pumping Kinoe's wrist. "Is it just me or has late winter hung on too long into the early spring this year?"

Kinoe in his basso buffo voice countered the insult with, "And your father's beard too_... _It's true, late winter still rests heavy on the spring air, you can feel the Witch's hand in it._"_

Releasing Kinoe's wrist Tem turned slightly giving the dwarf a slap on the shoulder of his leather tunic, in return the dwarf faked a jab at Tem's midsection causing the satyr to flinch.

"Aye_, _it be her au right_. _Wonder what's put a bug up'... The dwarf paused, jamming the stem of his unlit pipe between his teeth... 'up her butt this time. Somethings up, ats' a' sure."

The smuggler captain gathered up the edge of his frayed travel cloak in his free hand and drew it across his chest. Making a histrionic flourish with his weapon laden left hand, Tem bowed in a show of mock supplication.

"Pray tell master Grunram, what brings the high elder of Midway village away from his warm lodgings to meet with a bunch of snow blind outlaws,_"_ Tem asked trying to keep the mood buoyant.

"We'd been expecting ye,' The dwarf, with a quizzical look on his face said, 'So I sent Midway's wolves out to scout yea up."

Grunram's disposition grew a shade darker. Lowering his voice he looked about furtively before continuing. "They found ye right anuf' but they also cut trail on the false queen's lackeys_."_

Tem pressed the dwarf for more information. "Have they found the village, do you know?_"_

"Scoutsar_'_ still out coursing but the weather's pretty much wiped away any sign," Grunram volunteered.

"A moment if you will," the satyr enjoined.

Tem bending his arm up at his side pointed the index finger of his right hand towards the cloudy sky.

**...**

The sledge drawing to a stop the fauns, Mosus and Asuls leapt into the air nearly at the same moment. Landing on the rear edge of the sled's runners forced them to dig into the snow checking the backward slide of the conveyance. The successful completion of this task seemed to greatly please the fauns. Fain enjoying their antics thought again how much the two had come to feel like brothers to him.

The starets holding council a short way off, the sled's crew settled in for a well deserved respite. The fauns were going on about what a wonderful chapter this was going to make in their book. Fain, meanwhile, scanned the pass behind them in hopes of catching sight of their main scout Merbos the fox. Fain's chest swelled with pride, for Merbos was a legend in these parts and people knew he chose to work with only the best.

Tucked up in a ball, Tobruk the addle headed bear rest against the front of the sleigh. Seeing him, one would think you were gazing upon the biggest hedgehog in all Narnia. Azron the kindhearted badger, Tobruk's friend and mentor sat in the snow on the other side of the sledge's tongue. Knees tucked up almost to his chest, the badger rest his cheeks on balled up paws, his side of the doubletree nestled comfortably in his lap.

Fain hopping onto the sled's dirty white sailcloth tarp sprawled out on his stomach. Resting his chin on folded arms, Fain marveled at the easy way his father commanded the trust and respect of his peers. The old feelings of doubt welling up inside him, he again wondered if he would ever achieve his father's level of self-confidence or plough the depth and breath of Tem's convictions.

He was of late having difficulty reconciling his own newly cultivated skepticism with his father's oft repeated liturgy about some magical lion, 'who would rescue them all _and usher i__n a New__ golden age for Narnia.' _A belief he found difficult to balance against the sight of sunken eyes and empty bellies on the mothers and babes they encountered everywhere they went.

Tem just then made a gesture with his hand that caused his son immediate concern. This was a signal he and father had worked out as a way of silently telling Fain he was needed as a scout on their flank. Father would not have used the signal unless something was amiss.

* * *

**page 2**

Fain rolled onto his back and vaulted off the sleigh to the snowy ground. Shedding his bow case and falcata he undid his travel cloak stuffing the garment in a gap between the tarp and one of the lashing ropes. A spare quiver of arrows he normally wore upfront on his sash belt he repositioned to hang over his right hip. Retrieving his weapons he used their straps to tightly wrapped them into a neat bundle.

There was no need of special trail craft here. Fain had been this way many times before so he knew well the lay of the land. Four meters up the western side of the ravine ran a shelf of rock that paralleled the trail all the way up to Midway valley. It would make an excellent vantage point from which to scout until it turned west still clinging to the cliff face that encircled much of the valley.

His cloak left behind, Fain gathered up his weapons bundle saying to no one in particular. "Think I'll have a look around."

Asuls and Mosus reclining on their respective sled runners gave the impression of a pair of bookends. their backs resting against the canvas cover, hands clasped behind their heads, each with a right leg crossed over a left knee, their eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Why de yea not take yea rest while yea can friend satyr," Mosus instigated with his best dwarf idiom.

Asuls taking a stab at imitating the nonchalant manner of Azron the badger chimed in. "I'd say old fuzzy face here is trying to make us look like a couple of slugabeds in front of the captain."

Fain grunting noncommittally strode off to find a proper spot where he might make a try for the ledge. A place that satisfied his needs having been chosen, he calculated he'd need two or three strides to buildup enough speed to make the leap.

A flash of motion to his left caught Fain's attention. A reddish gray blur low to the ground weaved around and behind the stones littering the base of the west wall. The sight of Merbos trotting past on short fox legs bought a smile to the satyr's face.

"All is well Master Merbos," He asked.

The fox without breaking stride barked between labored breaths. "All is well, - young satyr – Fain," before the distance between them made conversation impossible.

Bundled up weapons in hand Fain returned to his starting point. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly to help clear his thoughts. Two long strides and he was airborne, aiming not for the stone shelf itself but it's fringe instead. Painful experience had taught him that leaping directly onto icy ledges more often as not led to a bloody nose and bruised stifles.

The trajectory of his arc peeked just short of the granite mantle leaving him suspended in midair. At this point he flicked his burden onto the rock overhang and grabbed the seemingly proffered ledge of stone with both hands. Drawing himself against the cliff face, his hooves found easy purchase. Kicking a left leg up onto the lip of the out cropping Fain pulled himself the rest of the way up.

Rolling up on a knee he retrieved the weapons bundle and set about braking it down. Passing his head and left arm through the strap attached to the sword's scabbard he let it drape over his right shoulder. Fain with practiced hands reached behind and twisted his sash belt through a split ring attached to the scabbard's chape.

A most unbecoming way to wear the traditional satyr's weapon but Father had insisted he'd carry it that way, explaining, "I know it feels awkward son but hopefully you'll think twice before drawing it." Da's advice, as usual, had proven to be right. Fain would continue using his fists to settle most of the disputes he got into.

He was shaken from his musings when from below Mosus called out, "Hay, son of Tem, _ya missed._" The observation was followed by a chorus of laughter. Their stab at humor was answered a few seconds later with a well aimed barrage of snowballs.

Dusting snow from his coat, he again knelt and set about untying the leather cord that held the sack-like top of the bow case closed. He removed from the bag an ancient centaur crafted horn bow, the only possession he considered truly to be his own. Passing a hand reverently along it's length, Fain could almost feel a physical connection to his progenitors who had once yield it.

He took time after stringing the weapon to sight down its length looking for any sign of warpage. He knew he would find none though because this family heirloom had learned its shape long before he had even been born.

The bow set aside, Fain took the case and collapsed it's top inward exposing the arrows nestled inside. It now would serve as his primary quiver.

Ducking his head and right shoulder through the loop formed by the case strap he let it drop to lay flat over the sword scabbard. Fain standing reached up over his shoulder, checking once more to make sure the falcata's grip wasn't fouled by the bow case. He next rolled his shoulders a few times in an effort to help distribute the load.

Something touched his left ear causing it to flatten back against the side of his head. Looking quickly left and right then up, a snowflake drifting down kissed the lashes of his right eye. He became aware also of a cold breeze combing through his coat. 'Its starting to snow again and the winds picking up too,' He thought sourly.

The bow retrieved, Fain nocked arrow to string. He thought it best if he backed his way along the shelf to better scan the trail behind them. It seemed reasonable to assume if trouble was hunting them it would be coming from that direction. Working his way along the high trail he'd pause every few steps and checked over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't wandering to close to the edge of the drop off.

Passing over his father's group two things caught his attention. First, father had shifted position to better keep an eye on his son. Secondly, stuffed behind a sash belt closely matching his natural color, Kinoe carried a miner's pick instead of sporting his favored battle-ax.

The head of the ravine having been reached Fain slowly wheeled right to left surveying the valley floor through the sight window of his bow. He finished up his sweep looking westward along the high trail and right into the face of a very large wolf! He hesitated unsure if it was one of Midway's friendlies or something else but before he could challenge, the wolf lunged sending them both over the edge.

* * *

**page 3**

Fain tried yelling a warning but to his dismay it came out sounding like a scream of terror. The cry was cut short as he slammed onto the frozen snow below. His back burned as if he lay in a hot skillet, the back of his head felt like a smashed egg shell.

The final blow came an instant later when the wolf crashed down shoulder first onto the young satyr's thorax. Staggered, the wolf rolled off him disappearing from his sight.

Fain struggled to draw breath as his vision filled with billowing translucent clouds that seem to spread out and dissipate only to be replaced by another wave of clouds and another, and another. Awash in pain Fain became aware of the wolf's warm moist breath against the right side of his face.

"You die now - scum," the wolf growled. Fain braced himself for the esophagus crushing deathblow that was about to come.

The words amplified by the ravine behind him, Tem's voice boomed, "Try Me - You Mangy Lap Dog!"

"With Pleasure - Meat,"_ C_ame the wolf's guttural decree.

Fain felt the wolf's hot breath sweep across his face as it turned away. A gray blur sailed across his failing vision almost at the same time.

An anguished canine howl filled his ears and a moment or so later came his father's reassuring invocation of - "_For Narnia__!"_

Pandemonium broke out as the sounds of a battle joined reached his ears. 'Fain, son of Tem would not be left out of this fight' He told himself.

Raising up on an elbow pain like a thousand-thousand static electric shocks radiated through his chest. Dropping back to the ground panic washed over him with the realization he had no feeling below his hips. A sense of utter helplessness engulfing him he believe he now knew what it was an animal must experience when held in the jaws of a hungry predator.

Overwhelming sadness crushed his spirit like a bolder as Death's bony fingers began to tighten around his throat, choking off his breath. The lack of air clouding his vision, Fain riling against the injustice of it all was shaken by a voice, an unfamiliar voice inside his head that said to him - 'You are nothing special.'

Inexplicably Fain drew comfort from this pronouncement. The voice spoke to him again and with it came great understanding.

It, in a soft voice said. "Everyone who ever lived or ever shall live, regardless of their station in life will stand in this place someday."

This revelation ignited a flame that inwardly warmed him, driving out his fears and doubts. he now understood what it was the voice was trying to tell him.

Whatever lay beyond the veil, be it paradise or total nothingness his time had come and there was nothing to be done about it. What would be, would be.

His vision in those last few seconds clearing revealed to him the cloud filled skies of the endless winter. Lying there in the snow Fain tried to reach up, to touch it, to warn the winter that, 'eventually it too would pass. His family, all the others, they mustn't lose hope...'

His strength gone his hand dropped back to the snowy earth where it came to rest on the grip of his beloved horn bow. 'For Narnia.'


	3. For Narnia

(5,681 _words_)

(I draw inspiration for my stories from The Chronicles of Narnia in all it's manifestations, both canon and non-canon.)

**(revised)**

Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia are the intellectual property of Clive Staples Lewis and his legally recognized representatives. We come here just to play in his garden.

Warning: M rated for violence and drug use but mostly to give me some wiggle room.

pages 4-9

_**The Narnians**_

"The Lion, the Witch, the Wardrobe and Beyond"

~~~ chapter2 ~~~

**"For Narnia"**

Tem watching his son scale the cliff face thought to himself, 'He'll make a fine standard bearer for the cause some day if he'd just get past his self-doubts.'

The snow starting to drift down again, Tem tried to act nonchalant strolling over to join Grunram and Kinoe. The caravan captain's pride in his son was legend among the folk of Midway so this subterfuge fooled no one.

"We passed the southbound village resupply train yesterday,' Tem informed them, 'so they're probably on their way back by now. If you like we can rest for awhile at the Inn and then come back as an escort."

Grunram plucking the unlit pipe from his mouth pointed it stem-first at the sleigh, asking. "What chya' hauling this trip Tem."

"Well', the satyr began, 'with early spring arriving folks will be itching to get out and about. Gathering firewood or maybe chopping holes in the thinning ice to do some fishing. You know what that means, cuts and bruises and maybe a few broken bones here an there. We're carrying mostly medical supplies along with some crates of dried fruits and vegetables and a few other sundries this trip."

"I be thanking yea for your offer of help Tem but the folks up in beruna will be needing these supplies far more then I need a bunch of bone-weary renegades galavanting all through these hills," The dwarf assured him.

Their conversation was cut short by the arrival of Merbos. The fox nodding a greeting to the others was informed of a possible threat from the White Witch's followers. His ears flattened back, Merbos took this news as a quiet condemnation of his considerable tracking skills before he picked up on the relaxed banter passing back and forth between the others.

Tem pointing to the pickax tucked behind the minotaur's belt asked in jest, "Thinking of taking up mining brother?"

Kinoe with a chuckle slapped the tool with his hand. "This? Well you see, we were at the Inn when news of a possible incursion reached us. Our glorious leader here practically dragged me out of the place by the hairs of my chin." Kinoe stopped to rub the back of his hand under his jaw for emphasis. "The only weapons at hand were a stack of pickaxes piled next to the door - "

"I only pressed ye into service as I might have need of a bodyguard," Grunram interrupted. His voice increasing in pitch as he continued. "I did nae expect to be hauled here like a bundle of kindling, all I said was we had ta make all haste crossing the valley."

Merriment ensued as a picture formed in their minds of Kinoe striding over the snow with the infuriated dwarf tucked beneath his arm. His face turning red, Grunram stabbed at the snow with the toe of his boot trying to regain a measure of composure.

It dawned on Tem Grunram carried no weapon and had only his stout leather daywear for protection. The dwarf true to form had put aside thoughts of his own safety in order to bring others a warning of possible danger.

Wishing to spare Grunram any further embarrassment Tem tried steering the conversation in a new direction.

"I had planned to surprise you with two firkin of Anvard whiskey when we reached Midway,' he said with a touch of mirth, 'that just happen to find their way onto my sleigh before we left. I'm guessing the spirits served at the Inn must be pretty watered down by now!"

Grunram looked up, his face beaming. "Sure'n thats mighty thoughtful of you lad."

"O, and here's another little token of esteem from us contrabandists to the gracious host of Midway valley," Tem proclaimed with great fanfare. Fishing round in the script looped over his belt, the satyr pulled out a package he tossed to the village headman.

Grunram's eyes widened into small saucers watching the package arc towards him. Plucking it from the air, the dwarf turned over in his hands a washed-leather pouch. He paused a moment to examine the royal tax stamp of Calormen branded into it's flap. Raising the parcel to his nose Grunram inhaled deeply before letting it out in a long low whistle.

"Fresh cured Calormen tobacco! Sure this be no free-given relief aid,' Grunram breathed. Eyeing the satyr with suspicion he demanded to know. 'iffin ye don't mind me asken, how exactly did a worm poor smuggler come by the coin for such a lavish gratuity."

"No-no, nothing like that,' Tem said with a reassuring wave of his hand. 'Those Archenlandish relief managers love to haggle as much as a dwarf trader does"-

Kinoe, his voice filled with distain, broke in. "Free-Given, it's to laugh. Anvard's the one getting the relief while we pay with our dearest blood keeping the Witch off their backs."

Tem reaching out gently squeezed the minotaur's arm. "Keep good heart brother" He said. Gazing off into some unseen tomorrow, he avowed. "Don't judge them too harshly, Kinoe. If not for Archenland's generosity our dream of a free Narnia probably would have died long ago."

* * *

**page 5**

The minotaur's contempt for Anvard seem to ebb as he listened to Tem speak so respectfully of their neighbors to the south.

Grunram again stabbed the tobacco pouch at Tem demanding to know, "Yes-yes that's all well an grand but how exactly did you come by this!

Tem stammered. "Ah yes,... that, yes - well you see, at the moment Narnian folk art seems to be all the fashion in Anvard. The depot agent down there was more then happy to trade me this,' He said touching the tobacco pouch, 'for a satyr made bow and quiver."

The old dwarf spinning round looked down the ravine to where the sleigh set. "Tem! Not your son's right of passage bow," He gasped.

"Well, the kid cares more about that old short bow it would seem, besides it was just taking up room on the sled so all in all I'd call it a pretty fair trade," Tem with a touch of sadness in his voice said.

"Aye, and iffin he shows the lasses as much attention as he does that horn bow, you'll be a venerated elder before you know it," Grunram contritely noted.

Wishing to spare Tem further unhappiness Grunram held up the pouch of tobacco. "Would the thanks of an old fool who'll probably be spending the rest of his days on this mountain carry much weight with you Tem," He asked.

Tem resting a hand on the dwarf's shoulder replied, "No but it means a lot coming from you old friend - "

Arrow nocked to string, bow drawn taut, palm pressed to cheek all in a blur of motion, Tem sighted over the tip of the arrow. Their attention had been drawn to a scream of rage. He watched through the sight window of the bow his son plummet to the ground followed by a dark gray streak, no, a wolf! Nausea filled Tem watching the wolf land on his son, compressing the youth's chest in a most unnatural way. Tem, in a fatherly way, could feel his own ribs collapsing in a like manner.

The wolf scrambling off Fain rounded for the kill. Tem whispering "NO," released the arrow along with a silent plea for Aslan to guide it true.

His frustration bubbling over Tem watched the arrow kick up snow just in front of it's intended target. A desire for revenge gripping him he cast the bow aside, killing this lackey of the Witch with his own hands was going to be the only way he'd sate his thirst for retribution. Drawing his cutlass from it's scabbard Tem let slide away the mantle of civility and embraced the savage beast within.

Filling his lungs with crisp mountain air, Tem loosed a roar that shook the very stars in the heavens. "Try me, you mangy lap dog!"

The satisfaction of the kill denied him by this new challenge the wolf growled back curtly. "With pleasure, MEAT!"

The distance closing between the two combatants, Tem became aware of a second wolf. This interloper leaping off the ledge his son had just fallen from landed on the snowy ground a few strides behind it's companion.

Tem rushing forward lowered the point of his sword aiming for the heart of his mark. A sudden burst of speed by the satyr just as the wolf lunged impaled the surprised brute on Tem's cutlass clean up to the sword's guard. A wail of misery escaping his lips, the wolf dropped to the ground at Tem's hooves - dead.

The knell of the dying ruffian mustered his troops as several howling wolves detached themselves from their hiding place among boulders littering the base of the gully's west wall.

Skewered on the sword blade, the weight of the dead wolf held fast the cutlass as the satyr tried pulling it free. Tem knew time was running out.

The second wolf attacked before Tem had a chance to recover. Biting down on the bracer of Tem's right wrist the wolf began twisting and turning, tugging and thrusting, thrashing about in a dance of death as it tried to pull down its quarry. The satyr in response to this assault drew his arm along with the lower jaw of his adversary tight against his chest.

The wolf emitted a muffled yelp when Tem hooked a fist against the right side of it's head with so much force he could feel the bone around the wolf's eye socket begin to collapse.

"That was for my son," He whispered.

Looking up to see the white witch's minions nearly upon him, Tem could hear behind him the din and clamber of his approaching companions. Time was growing short.

Tem threw another left hook with so much force it tore the right ear of his adversary nearly all the way off. Blood droplets misting the air the wolf responded to this new assault with a sharp growl and a redoubling of it's efforts to escape. Desperate to be free the wolf frantically clawed at Tem's belly and hips with it's front paws leaving behind long bloody gouges.

"That was for my friends," Tem hissed through the pain.

The executioners had arrived. Time was up.

One last righteous blow broke the jaw of his tormentor. Releasing The dazed thug, Tem glared down contemptuously on the encircling ring of death. Drawing himself up to his full height the satyr took a deep breath and roared defiantly. "And that was - _For Narnia!"_

The pack fell upon their prey in a frenzy of biting and clawing as Tem, son of Landus, sire of Fain, departed for Aslan's country.

**...**

Perhaps it was the fatigue of the day's long journey or perhaps it was the pleasure of being in the company of old friends. Perhaps it was a little bit of both that wrapped a blanket of serenity around the little group freezing them into confused inaction when the violence came.

* * *

**page 6**

Grunram was trying to make sense of what was happening. A wolf, friend or foe he had no way of telling, stood over the motionless form of their scout. Tem rushing to his son's side? That question was answered strait away when the smuggler drew sword. Hurling challenges and taunts at one another the combatants crashed together. The agonizing howl that followed proclaimed the winner of the duel just as a second adversary rushed Tem. A baleful proclamation arising from the west revealed the truth to Grunram. The Witch's secret police had found them.

**...**

Kinoe desperately wanted to join Tem but his first duty was to the leader of Midway valley. Unable to take action he was forced to watch as each new aggressor dared challenge his friend. The rival force fast approaching from the west, all he could think to do was cast pleading eyes down on the dwarf. Grunram staring straight ahead uttered in a monotone voice three words that sliced through the chain binding Kinoe to his oath. "Have... at... um," the dwarf intoned. Tugging the pickaxe from his belt Kinoe charged off towards the bloody battlefield.

**...**

Merbos was dumbfounded by the events swirling round him. 'How could I've missed so many signs,' he chastised himself.

The old dwarf chose that moment to give the command "Have... at... um," before he lumbered away. Bounding up along side Grunram all the fox could think to say was, "I'm... sorry," self-loathing heavy in his voice. Something then clicked in his head. The wind - the wind. "They had the wind in their favor," Merbos tried to explain through gulps of breath.

"Forget it son," came the old dwarf's sympathetic reply.

A feeling of redemption spreading through him spurred the fox on to greater effort. A plan began taking shape with each stride he took. He would make his way northwest then turn south where he would take up a position on the enemy's northern rear flank. He knew he had little chance against their numbers but using his natural gifts of speed and agility, he would try harrying and confusing them and maybe, just maybe he could draw one or two of them away from the others. 'A satisfactory ruse' he thought.

**...**

Mosus was brought to his hooves by a shout. Asuls was at his side an instant later.

"That sounds like Fain. Wonder what trouble he's gotten himself into now," Mosus smirked.

"We better go have a look-see, don't you think," Asuls noted.

Pulling their belt knives almost at the same time, the two fauns started up the hill.

**...**

Cheeks cradled in his paws, Azron sat in the snow watching Fain pick his way along the ledge over head. A cry rang out as the young satyr toppled from the shelf along with another form. Azron's view beyond that point was blocked by a rise in the land so he could not tell what had become of their scout. the badger deciding to investigate further shoved aside the sled's doubletree and set off for the spot where he believed Fain had landed.

'This cant be good' he thought to himself as he started barking commands over his shoulder to the others. "Tobruk with me! Mosus, Asuls this may be a diversion. You two stay with the sleigh."

Azron could see from his new vantage point Tem and what appeared to be a wolf. The two merged together as a howl of pain put a name to the winner. A second wolf attacked Tem straight away but the badger's attention was drawn to the hue and cry coming from the west.

The bear coming up along side him, Azron said, "Tobruk listen to me. What ever happens, I want you to guard elder Grunram. I'll see what I can do for the others."

**...**

An anguished cry roused Tobruk from his nap. A blow to the ankles from the doubletree as it pivoted round on the sled's tongue brought him full awake and feeling grumpy. A little slow witted, Tobruk had always relied on Azron for guidance so he paused not an instant when Azron bid him follow. Catching up to his sled mate the bear was wise enough to see they were running towards some sort of trouble. Pacing the badger he was instructed to take care of that nice old dwarf Grunram no matter what. Their paths diverging, Tobruk prayed Azron wouldn't take too many chances.

Mosus and Asuls had gone only a few steps when Azron's orders stopped them in their tracks. The sleigh's lead team raced off up the ravine leaving the fauns looking down at their woefully inadequate belt knives.

'"If this is - just... a diversion." They repeated at almost the same instant. Fear began welling up in them but was immediately tamped down by the comforting thought that they were together, brothers in all ways but blood. The stories they bandied about how they would stand together, shoulder to shoulder fighting against overwhelming odds in some epic battle seem eerily prophetic just now.

Hopping up onto the tier of cargo Mosus shaded his eyes with his hand, scanning a full circle.

"See anything noble knight," Asuls quipped.

"Not a battle in sight epic hero," Mosus nervously joked. "No wait I see something. There's a wolf and it looks like the captain's going to engage him in combat," Mosus breathlessly announced.

Asuls turned to look just as their captain's booming challenge fill the air. He felt a thrill watching the wolf fall on Tem's sword. The wail of the dying villain meld with a howl that would stir fear in the hearts of any decent Narnian, The Witch's troops were out for blood! A wolf unnoticed till now attacked their leader in savage hand to jaw combat.

A force of blackguards materialized soon after and fell upon their captain. His dying declaration fill the fauns to overflowing with pride and purpose. Tem's final words had yet to be carried off by the wind when they were renewed by Mosus and Asuls as they set about taunting the filthy malcontents. Their shouts of "For Narnia!" were repeated over and over, longer and louder, in shrill almost fanatical voices.

* * *

**page 7**

The minotaur's heart sank as he realized he was not going to reach his dear friend in time. Tem's final pronouncement instead of waning came back to Kinoe seemingly from every direction at once. he came in that moment to realize he was an outcast no longer. Tem and Midway had redeemed him, had made him part of something bigger. Something beyond his own self-interests. Something worth fighting for. Something that was worth dying for. Yes, he told himself, he would go on fighting for as long as he was able. He'd go on fighting for his Helria, for his friends but most of all he would go on fighting... "For Narnia!_"_

Making Tem's oath his battle cry Kinoe wade into the maelstrom of frenzied devils where malevolent eyes turned gore smeared muzzles in his direction. The pack's de facto leader making a leap for his throat, Kinoe swung the pickaxe. Impaled clear through the lungs this adversary was swept aside. Fate and the mass of the dying wolf pulled the smooth pick handle from Kinoe's grip. This would prove to be a stroke of good fortune however as it positioned his right arm to fend off the next attack.

Another wolf latching onto his forearm forced Kinoe to use his free hand to support his wrist less the brute pull him off balance. Two more underlings who had been flanking him darted in, biting and twisting they tried to tear off chunks of thick hair and tough flesh in an effort to disembowel their quarry. A fourth member of the pack circled around behind leaping on the minotaur's back. Their combined weight succeeded in dragging Kinoe down under a riving blanket of death.

**...**

Grunram felt crestfallen by the sight he beheld. Tem whom he treasured like a son was hacking and clawing his way towards the person he cherish most in all the world. A sudden desire to flee the witch's servants nearly overwhelmed the old dwarf making him feel old and tired, tired and ashamed, ashamed and angry with himself. Mostly he was just tired of being afraid of Her.

'Well, he was done hiding and he was done cowering,' he thought to himself. He had to admit casting off his fears and doubts was a liberating experience. 'All in all it had been a pretty good life.'

The dwarf felt he had no right to ask his companions to put themselves in jeopardy so when he gave the command, "Have... at... um." The words he spoke with so little emotion were directed mostly towards himself.

Lumbering towards the battle the old chieftain of Midway Village glared at the approaching mob. One of the brutes raced ahead of the main body aiming directly at him. His date with destiny fast approaching he became aware of Merbos at his side seemingly begging forgiveness, as if all this was somehow his fault. Grunram's attention was focused else where so all he managed to get out was "Forget it son " and before he knew it, the fox was gone.

The dwarf reached the point he figured he would engage his opponent. Skidding to a stop at the last second as was his plan, Grunram back peddled in a burst of unanticipated speed that left the wolf biting at empty space. He aimed the cuff of his leather tunic at the wolf's face as the brut lunged again. A twitch of it's head and the wolf bit down on the dwarf's less protected upper forearm and got quite a shock!

"That be the gnarled old root of a dwarf's arm' he sneered, 'not some plump field bunny... pup."

The carnivore rocking its head and jaw back and forth tried to bore through Grunram's tuff flesh. Pain shot up the headman's arm just as Tem's oath fill the air. The dwarf, almost selfishly implored the great lion to allow his friend a few more seconds in this world so Tem might know his dream lived on.

Grabbing a fistful of scruff from the wolf's throat with his free hand, Grunram added his voice to the rising chorus. "Aye lad - For Narnia!" he shouted.

The gray-haired old dwarf surprised the wolf by spitting in it's eye, startling it so much it loosened it's grip. Grunram used the opportunity to jam his wrist still farther into the wolf's mouth. This action triggered a reflexive gag in the wolf causing it to open it's mouth even wider and again the dwarf shoved his arm in even deeper. The two combatants, twisting and turning, found themselves locked in a tug of war to the death.

Merbos reached the spot he had planned to launch his assault from but hesitated at the sight of the wolf pack arraying itself around Tem. Mounting his assault anyway the fox charged into the throng from the northwest. Dodging through the forest of legs he nipped and clawed here and there at every opportunity.

Tem's invocation reached his ears just before the forest of limbs collapsed in an avalanche of thrusting bodies that threatened to bury him. Breaching the southwest corner of the free for all Merbos turned to watch as his captain disappeared under a blanket of fir.

He felt his soul being gripped as if some unseen force was trying to crush it. Merbos sharp bark of - "_For Narnia!"_ mingled with his comrades in a final salute to the most honorable smuggler he ever worked with.

Merbos the master tracker, Merbos the arrogant, Merbos the outsider was no more. Consumed in a fire that produced no heat, leaving behind unseen ashes that were scattered by an unfelt breeze. Rising up in their stead was Merbos the humbled. Merbos the tool, Merbos the arrow. A tool to repair an injustice. An arrow, one of many arrows drawn taut, hoping for the chance to take down a tyrant.

Merbos the arrow galloped north a short distance before pivoting to face the opposition. Two malefactors at the edge of the pack showed some interest in him. The larger one of the two turned it's attention back to the vivisecting of it's trophy.

The smaller of the two slinking towards him said in an undeniably female voice. "So, the glory of this kill goes - to me".

Merbos Cocked his head regarding her with mock adoration. "Tis' a pity such an attractive fruit does possess such a venal stone - Wench," He jeered.

Experience had taught Merbos that most creatures of Narnia favor their right side so the fox dodged to her left. He had guessed correctly. Confused, she pivoted to follow him spiraling in closer with each step. Stopping dangerously close to that toothy maw, Merbos danced left and right, forward and back trying to keep the villainess occupied. Stepping on a patch of ice hidden under the snow, his hind quarters twisted out from under him. Merbos hit the ground hard as she bounded in to stand triumphantly over him. He was caught.

The bear climbing the hill in search of the elderly dwarf, as he had been instructed was touched by the words of his kindhearted captain making him feel... happy. "Yep", Tobruk had to agree. In a deep rumbling voice that threatened to dislodge the snow blanketing the nearby pine trees, the bear lent his voice to the others around him with a roar of - "For Narnia_."_ Tobruk feeling enraptured resumed his search for that nice old dwarf elder Grunram.

* * *

**page 8**

Azron watched the minotaur charge across the snow trying to reach Tem. The Satyr's final call to duty filled his ears, squeezing his heart like a hand. He could not have resisted swearing the oath his dying friend held so dear even if he wanted to and he did not. Azron joining the others raised his voice in a heart felt salute of - "_For Narnia!"_

The badger pausing to survey the battle field realized Kinoe was out numbered. He was sure though the shaggy great mountain would comport himself valiantly in the time he had left. His mind racing, Azron tried coming up with some sort of plan to help them all out of this mess. Their best hope as he saw it was to adopt the enemy's strategy of ganging up on one opponent at a time.

Gauging their position, he counted on Kinoe to take down one or two before he'd succumb. The ancient dwarf was probably spent by now but you can never be sure with dwarves. This left Tobruk as their last rallying point. He had no doubt the fox would be more then happy to spread confusion among the enemy's ranks. This would leave only Mosus and Asuls to fall back on. The two in the past had proven themselves in encounters with brigands but if the battle got that far they'd probably be on their own anyway.

Azron's mood brightened a little when he saw Merbos draw one of the invaders away from the main body. Skirting the primary engagement he was hoping to reach the fox and try this new strategy. His plan began to unravel when the minotaur went down. Next Merbos appeared to slip on some ice, the wolf hovering over him ready to pounce.

"Aslan help us," Azron gasped.

Grunram cursing his advanced years, huffed. "Iffin I'd a been a few seasons younger wolfy, you'd be hash by now!"

The contest was smothered by a blanket of fir as massive bear arms wrapped around each opponent. Grunram hugged to his chest, Tobruk stood to his full height then dropped down slamming the wolf into the frozen blanket of snow. The dwarf, his arm freed by the impact, was tossed aside by the bear to land on the seat of his britches with a grunt.

Tobruk raking a claw crowned paw along the semiconscious wolf's head slough off skin and muscle down to the bone. Rearing back, the bear drove a balled up fist into the glistening white skull of the wolf. The ensuing explosion of bone fragments and brain matter cast a fan like pattern out across the frozen snow.

Shaking the gore from his paw, Tobruk turned his attention back to elder Grunram. The dwarf struggling to his feet planned on rejoining the battle but found his way blocked by the bear. First to the right then to the left the dwarf tried to dodge around Tobruk only to be met each time by large paws.

Sputtering curses the old chieftain commanded. "Let me by, ya big ox. Can ye not see they need me help!"

Allowing the exhausted dwarf to pass, Tobruk quickly spun and scooped up the feisty little warrior.

Pressing Grunram to his chest the bear settled lightly to the ground saying. "Azron told me I got to protect you."

The fight gone out of him Grunram could only manage a sigh as he and Tobruk became spectators to the unfolding tragedy.

The She-devil towering victoriously over Merbos inquired with sham concern. "Have nothing more to say my dear?"

Casting desperate glances left and right, Merbos returned to gaze deeply into her eyes. "Care to dance," he asked just before she was swept from his sight.

Azron crashed broadside into the villainess sending them both tumbling over the snowy ground in a ball of fir, fang and claws. Coming to rest the badger found himself sprawled on his back prone for the wolf's next attack. The beldame seizing the opportunity bit down on Azron's left hind foot tearing flesh and crushing bone.

Azron blind with pain stabbed powerful front paws into the soft underbelly of his tormentor. Piercing through flesh with wickedly sharp claws he rend open the belly of the she-wolf spilling her guts, along with her life onto the snows of midway valley.

Merbos arriving hooked paws under the badger's front legs trying to pull Azron free of the still twitching corpse. Venting a savage growl the badger used his one good foot to pedal free of his burden.

His head coming to rest in the fox's lap, their eyes met. "Thank you my friend but its best if you go now. Seek out Tobruk, he's your best chance," Azron said to him.

"You pulled my chestnuts out of the fire back there so now it's time to settle the butcher's bill and please, don't tell me to leave you here," The fox said as he tried lifting Azron to his feet.

"Get up, you can lean on me," The fox pleaded.

Azron patted the smaller paw resting on his shoulder. "Your a good friend Merbos but I'm done, besides I'd just be putting you and the others in more danger. Go now, I'm as good as dead anyway."

Standing, the fox rounded the badger and started tugging on Azron's wrist, imploring him. "Come on get up, we can do this."

Looking over at the dead she-wolf and the near by pile of writhing thugs, the fox had an idea.

* * *

**page 9**

Leniently pressing the back of the badger's paw to his chest, Merbos asked. "How'd you like another go at them, Azron?"

Puzzled, Azron asked. "How?"

"You play dead, see and I'll try to get some of them to chase me back here then we'll show them a jolly old time. What a you think," the fox asked, a wicked grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"A fine plan Merbos, you'd have made a splendid general. For Narnia," he asked.

"And for Fain and Tem too," Merbos said with a nod.

Violence for the second time this day caught them off guard. The remnant of the wolf pack, getting in each others way was in fact doing little real damage to the minotaur.

Under the pile of chaos Kinoe with a touch of gallows humor thought. 'I've got them right where they want me.

The minotaur issuing a throaty roar launched himself skyward scattering the pack every which way. The brute still dangling from his wrist became the focus of his irk. Pinching the fingers of his left hand together he drove it like a spearpoint into the wolf's belly just below the sternum then forced it up through the wolf's diaphragm into it's chest where he clutched at hart and lungs.

The mortally wounded foe releasing it's grip on Kinoe's wrist slid off the minotaur's other, blood soaked arm. Crumpling to the ground at his hooves the dying lump of flesh and bone struggled to draw breath that would never come again.

The two flankers returned trying once again to disembowel their pray. This time he seized them by the scruff on the back of their necks and yanked the knaves up to shoulder level. Displaying an adrenaline fueled strength that surprised even himself, Kinoe bashed the two brigands together in a neck snapping, skull crushing impact.

The back-biter of the group having recovered it's wits returned to try this time to hamstring the minotaur. Kinoe's left hoof kicking back reflexively caught the unprepared dastard under the chin knocking it senseless. Releasing the two dead-weights the minotaur launched himself into the air. Coming down toes first, he stabbed into the wolf's chest and belly sinking up to his fetlocks in blood and bile. Stepping out of the cruor Kinoe, still half blind with rage, looked around for his next opponent.

The battle was over. The foe had been bested but no one cheered or felt victorious just bloody, bruised, exhausted and thankful to Aslan they were still alive.


	4. What Price Victory

(4,306 _words_)

(I draw inspiration for my stories from The Chronicles of Narnia in all it's manifestations, both canon and non-canon.)

**(revised)**

Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia are the intellectual property of Clive Staples Lewis and his legally recognized representatives. We come here just to play in his garden.

Warning: M-rated for depictions of violence and drug use but mostly to give me some wiggle room.

pages 10-14

_**The Narnians**_

"The Lion, the Witch, the Wardrobe and Beyond"

~~~chapter3~~~

**What Price Victory**

The battle was over. All was quiet save for the rising wind.

Grunram found himself once again being tossed through the air to land on the seat of his britches with a grunt. Tobruk having abandoned him in order to hurry to his stricken companion.

Lifting the badger from the snow Tobruk held him out at arm's length. The fur under the bear's eyes grew increasingly dark streaked from his uncontrolled weeping. "Azron... Azron. Are - are you alright! Don't worry Azron we'll fix you up real good. Azron... we'll get you to the Inn and they'll put things to right. Right?"

Sucking air in response to being unwittingly jostled by the bear Azron urged through clinched teeth. "Set me down, please - Tobruk,' then quickly added. 'Wait!"

Balancing himself on his good foot, Azron clinging desperately to the bear's arms, lowered his injured one until it's claws lightly scraped the ground. The sensation of bone grading against bone sent a wave of nausea racing through his stomach, followed by a jolt of pain. In response to this pain he jerked his foot back up aggravating the condition even more.

Tobruk empathizing with his kindred spirit settled to the ground, lowering Azron onto a knee where he enveloped the badger in protective arms.

"Azron, it's going to be alright,' Tobruk cooed. 'We'll get you all better and then we can go back to pulling the sleigh together. Can't we?"

Azron couldn't deceive his dear companion. Stroking the bear's forearm with a reassuring paw, he searched for the right words so that Tobruk might understand.

"I'm sorry my friend but no, I won't be getting better. You'll just have to carry on without me," the badger murmured.

The bear began wailing hysterically, "I can't go on with out you Azron. I can't do this alone!"

"There-there Tobruk," Azron said, affectionately patting the bear's wrist. "Look around, you've got lots of friends who'll be there for you."

Sweeping his paw in a semicircle, Azron paused for a second at the spot where he'd seen Tem standing just moments before.

He continued, "Who knows, maybe we might even find you a nice lady bear to help you pull the sleigh. You'd like that wouldn't you. 'Come on, wouldn't yea," Azron said jostling the bear.

Tobruk had almost stopped shuddering. "Oh yes, that would be lovely," he pipped.

Wiping his nose on the back of his paw, Tobruk once again was overcome by the idea of facing the world without Azron. "No, no I – you – cant," but everyone present understood the crisis had passed.

The bond shared by Tobruk and Azron left Merbos feeling empty. After the death of his family many years ago, he had cultivated a presona of the self-sufficient outsider in hopes of shielding himself from just such emotional entanglements.

He now saw, after all they had just been through, that he had chosen the wrong path. A life of generosity surrounded by loved ones was far more rewarding then one spent trying to hold the world at arms length but there was still time to change. He could make a difference. He would - make a difference!

Bounding to the head of the pass he started shouting orders to the fauns. "Asuls - Mosus, cut me some long strips of canvas from that tarp for bandages.

Racing the rest of the way down to the sleigh Merbos dove in, rummaging around under the dasher. He backed out a moment later dragging their leather first-aid kit by it's strap. Spitting out the strip of leather he inquired of the fauns, "Anything useful in here lads?"

The only response they could offer was a wag of the head and a shrug of the shoulders.

* * *

**page 11**

"Right lads, back to your chores then. O, when your done here would you also bring along our blanket rolls. We can cut them up to use as gauze padding, a little soiled but that can't be helped right now. O, while I'm about it, would you also bring along some lengths of rope and one of those casks of whiskey for cleaning wounds." Orders given, Merbos snatched up the leather strap between his teeth and trotted off dragging the first-aid bag behind him.

"Lads," was the only comment a surprised Mosus could offer. His bewilderment was greeted by a mirthless chuckle from Asuls.

Asuls had a thought. "Master Merbos,' he called after the fox. 'What about the medical supplies we're moving?"

Up the hill, the fox stopping spit out the strap. Looking towards the battle field Merbos thought he knew what Tem would have said. "That's not for our use Asuls."

With that having been said there was nothing else to be done except return to the tasks appointed them.

...

The old dwarf climbing wearily to his feet pressed his free hand under his right arm trying to stanch a trickle of blood. Trudging over to join his battered minotaur companion Grunram stopped to pick up Tem's longbow.

'The badger can use this for a crutch. Tem would have liked that,' the dwarf thought. He stooped to pick up a few of the captain's arrows scattered here and there across the snow. Their shafts should make serviceable splints for the badger's leg too, he reasoned.

"Kinoe, you look like something a mother wolf might drag home to feed her youngins." The dwarf's stab at humor bought an appreciated chuckle from his companion.

Hoisting the minotaur's hand onto his right shoulder Grunram pressed his bow and arrow laden left hand into the small of Kinoe's back urging his charge forward.

"Lets get patched up so we can clear away this wreckage and be moving on. Night's gona be on us soon a nuff," The dwarf observed.

Kino seeing the hilt of Tem's cutlass half buried in the snow stopped and shook off the dwarf's hand. Bending over he gripped the neck of the dead brigand in one hand and heaved the carcass up by its throat. Wrapping his other hand around the cutlass's grip, Kinoe released the body letting it slide off the sword's blade like some bizarre scabbard.

Anger began welling up in Kinoe, not for his foes but at himself for not having acted sooner. His frustration growing he drove the blade of Tem's cutlass into the corpse at his feet. Giving in to the rage he started slashing and jabbing at the motionless form scattered around on the ground. He froze when his next thrust caused it's receiver to arch up emitting a shrill wail as the life went out of it.

The peal of the dying wolf flushed two spies from their hiding place among the rocks. Making a broad arc around the partisans, the escapees raced away eastward. Kinoe razing up to give chase found his way blocked by Grunram's outstretched arms.

"Leav'um go son,' Grunram implored. 'Their just a couple of omegas, probably too weak or too dull to be a threat. An iffin the fools do manage to find their way back and report their failure to Her, well She brooks no failures."

Kinoe bending over used the dead wolf to wipe off the blood staining Tem's sword. The idea of the darkness consuming itself left the minotaur with a satisfied feeling.

Mosus and Asuls returned with the items the fox had requested. Merbos rummaging around in the bag of first-aid supplies pulled out scissors and a small linen towel. Pressing these into Mosus hands, he told the faun to go see what he could do for elder Grunram. The fox next ordered Asuls to use his belt knife to cut strips from one of the blankets."

Holding a strip of blanket, Merbos with apologies, stuffed the dirty rag into the badger's gaping mouth. Tobruk bear-hugging the thrashing Azron, they elevated his injured foot to see what they could do for him. Using his teeth Merbos twist the end stopper out of the firkin and dribbled a small amount of the ember liquid over the struggling badger's foot. The cask placed aside, the fox set about binding-up Azron's crushed foot.

The smugglers next turned their attention to the Midway contingent. Returning to the group Grunram tossed Tem's bow onto the snow next to the bear. He handed the arrows to Asuls with instructions to snap off the points and fletchings. The arrow shafts were to be use as leg splints he explained.

Heedless of his own blood the dwarf picked up the small keg hefting it overhead, pouring a splash of whiskey mostly into his mouth. He offered the firkin to Kinoe but the minotaur waved it away.

'I'ma guessing everyone has their own way of handling grief,' Grunram thought as he passed the cask over to Mosus.

"Aug! What a waste of fine spirits," the dwarf sputtered when Mosus sloshed whiskey over the wolf's bite.

The faun using the towel Merbos had given him, patted the red tinged dampness from the dwarf's arm then used it to wipe down Grunram's wristband and hand. Asuls joined them in time to help Mosus finish dressing the dwarf's wounds.

The fauns together with the dwarf set about tending to the surprisingly docile minotaur, ever mindful of the cutlass Kinoe carelessly twisted back and forth in his hand.

Thumping the minotaur's chest with the back of his hand when they finished, Grunram announced, "There yea' go and someday U'll be bragging on those fine scars to your youngins."

The dwarf's attempt at humor only seemed to deepen their feeling of loss.

Letting out a long sigh Grunram said. "Au right, lets get this done then."

Azron having been left in the care of Tobruk, the others set off to search the bloody battlefield for the remains of their departed friend.

...

"Oh for The Love of Aslan! Why'd they have to go and do that for," Asuls groaned.

Sitting on a crimson stained midden heap of bone and flesh was the nearly pristine head of Tem, almost chewed away at the neck. What disturbed them most was the way his lifeless eyes seem to follow them where ever they moved.

* * *

**page 12**

"Some perverse ritual maybe. Perhaps a trophy to be carried back to 'Her," Merbos ventured.

"Get me a blanket please," Kinoe requested, the strain evident in his voice.

"There's plenty of stone over by the cliff. We can use it to cover him and his kid,' the dwarf suggested. 'Someone want to see to his youngin's remains," he inquired hopefully.

"We'll look after Fain," Mosus said through broken sobs. Supporting each other the two weeping fauns shuffled off to see to their fallen sled mate.

Following the fauns with his eyes, Grunram revealed to Kinoe. "Never had much use for that youngin. Tem, now, that's a different kettle of stew. He was one of the finest smugglers I ever knew."

His words met with silence, the dwarf got the impression he had struck a nerve in Kinoe. Reaching over the carnage Grunram used his good hand to shut the sallow eyes of the fallen satyr.

A lump growing in his throat, Grunram was reminded of the minotaur's earlier pronouncement. "Yea did indeed call the tune this day my friend," The dwarf said.

Kinoe, settling down on his hocks, spread out on the snow the blanket that would be the burial shroud for his friend. He had up to now been paying the dwarf only half a mind. "Huh? How's that Grunram?"

Grunram solemnly reminded the minotaur. "As yea said earlier, we did this day pay with our dearest blood."

Standing, Kinoe nodded down towards Tem's remains. "I did say that didn't I Grunram but you know what? I'd rather be dancing to Tem's tune of freedom and fraternity then to stand around counting the cost."

"Aye, Kinoe... you've the right of it there," was all the dwarf manage to get out around the lump in his throat.

\- "Elder Grunram, Kinoe. Come quick - Fain's alive," Asuls shouted.

Racing over to investigate, Kinoe arrived first. A quick visual inspection of the body laying in the snow, he could not help but notice how Fain's legs lay splayed almost flat on the ground.

"How do you know he's alive," the minotaur asked

When no response was forthcoming he bellowed. "How Do You Know He is Still ALIVE!"

The minotaur's clamor shook the fauns from their confusion.

"After... after what happened to master Tem, I thought it best to examine Fain's body for any signs of damage, that's when I felt a pulse in his neck," Mosus explained.

Kneeling in the snow next to Tem's son, Kinoe placed hands on ether side of Fain's rib cage and gingerly squeezed. The satyr's chest flexing up and down under his finger tips reminded Kinoe of a forge bellows.

Grunram arriving, tugged the glove off his right hand. Pressing a finger to the satyrs throat he could feel the steady thump of blood coursing through an artery. Exhaling in a low whistle, Grunram turned to look where the fox, the bear and the badger stood.

'This'll surely ball things up,' he thought.

Carefully prying Fain's fingers from the grip of the horn bow Kinoe set the weapon out of the way. Feeling for a pulse around the youth's left wrist, the minotaur told them, "He's got a good strong heart."

Still looking over to where Tem's remains lay, Grunram thought. 'Indeed he does Kinoe, indeed he does.'

'Time's a wasting,' Merbos said to him self.

"Tobruk go start unloading the sleigh. I'll send the fauns over to help in a second," he commanded.

The bear torn by conflicting loyalties looked down to Azron for guidance. Clutching the bow, the badger lowered himself down onto the snow. A wave of Azron's paw sent the bear off to do as he had been ordered.

Merbos barked at the fauns, "Mosus go get the rest of the medical supplies and bring them here. Asuls, you go help Tobruk unload the sledge" -

"But I thought you said the supplies aren't for our use_,_" Asuls broke in.

Furrowing his brow the fox shot the fauns a dark look that warned them he was done with their foolishness. Each swallowing hard, the fauns separated to begin their respective tasks.

The others gone, Grunram took a step closer to the minotaur.

"You seen the lay of his legs? I've seen such things at mine accidents,' he said in a low voice. 'His back's bust up, chest's staved in and how much longer he's got to live your guess is as good as mine. An iffin he does live, well you know Midway's laws as good as me. Iffin yea can not pull your own weight, yea can not stay. O, we'll fix him up as best we can, then send him home to be a burden on his poor grieven Ma - or"...

Eyebrows drawn down, Kinoe challenged, "Or what?"

The dwarf bent retrieving the cutlass Kinoe had carelessly dropped. "Or we can put an end to it here and now because iffin he does wake, mark my words. He will - be - suffering.

* * *

**page 13**

The minotaur growled in a menacing voice. "Yes, you can use that on him but if you do, you'll have to use it on me next because if you don't, I swear by the lion's mane I'll use it on you."

Grunram's shoulders sagged, the sword in his hand felt heavy as a block of granite, however, he was relieved to be free of the burden of having to make that decision. What enchantment the kid held over Kinoe and Helria he did not know nor did he care. He had his hands full just trying to keep the peace among the folk of Midway and he wasn't looking to take on the problems of anyone else.

Mosus arrived back with the firkin and bandages as the fox had requested. Merbos instructed him to leave the medical supplies and go help the others unload the sleigh.

"I'll see to Azron first then we can get started," He called over his shoulder to the departing faun.

Climbing to his feet with the help of the fox, Azron waved Merbos off. "I've got to start learning to get around by myself sooner or later, friend," he said before hobbling off to join Grunram and Kinoe, the fox hovering round him the entire time.

Asuls and the bear with the help of Mosus tug the remains of the tarp off the lading. A long crate they were removing from the side of the sled dislodged an iron-bound wood coffer, a Calormen medical emblem riveted to it's lid. The box upon striking the ground popped open spilling it's contents. A sound like sleigh bells filled the air as tiny red and yellow striped black vials fanned out over the snow. The crew, hardly taking notice, continued to stack crates stuffed with pre prepared first-aid bags, kegs of salted fish and boxes of dried fruits and vegetables on to an ever growing pile of orderly confusion.

Their task complete, Mosus remained behind to coil up lengths of rope while Asuls and Tobruk pushed the sleigh over to where their maimed companion lay. The sleigh hissing to a stop, Merbos quickly reached out snatching the knife tucked behind Asuls belt and chop through ropes holding one of the deck planks to the sledge's frame.

"We can use this for a litter," Merbos explained as he handed the knife back to the faun.

Mosus returning took up his customary place next to his mate. The fox standing on hind legs rested a front paw on the leg of each faun. He knew the next request would be a difficult one but the faun's ability to draw strength from each other made them the ideal candidates for what he had in mind.

"Friends,' he began, 'I have a most unpleasant task for you. Would you please prepare the remains of our captain for his final rest."

Without hesitation or comment the fauns set off on their woeful errand.

The minotaur with the bear's help rolled Fain onto his side so the plank could be positioned under him. Using blankets and strips of tarp, they did what they could to stabilize the satyr's fractured ribs. Kinoe supporting the head of the board, Grunram and Merbos passed knotted together lengths of cloth and rope back and forth under the litter to act as straps to secure their game patient to the makeshift stretcher. The now useless legs of the satyr were bundled together at their stifles, his cannons lashed flat against the board. Finished, they carefully loaded the pallet onto the sleigh.

The fauns upon completion of their morbid task tied together the ends of the blanket shroud. Respectfully as they could manage, they staggered over to the cliff wall. Among the stones, as if gifted by Aslan himself, they found a shallow trough. It's dimensions ideal for their needs, in short order they had erected a small sepulcher to house Tem's remains.

Mosus waited for the others to finished tending to the injuries of his sled mate before asking, "Elder Grunram, as senior among us would you care to lead the eulogy for Master Tem?"

The sad little group shuffled over to line up in front of Tem's small mausoleum. The dwarf cradling his throbbing arm took a few steps further before turning to face the mourners.

"At times like these I dent be very good with words,' Grunram began, 'I could spend the live long day spinning tales about Tem that would... Well, that's best left for another time. I do however before all of you make this oath. I swear to you, from this day forth, I be doing all in ma' power to make Tem's dream of a free Narnia a reality."

His words met by nods of affirmation from the others.

Grunram turned to face the monument planning on offering up a silent prayer for Tem when unexpectedly he was jostled from behind. The flustered dwarf wheeled round to face the minotaur's back pressed against him. Kinoe seemed to have been dragging the carcass of a dead wolf across the snow as evidenced by a blood smeared path.

"!An wat' air Yea' doin now Ya Great Moth Eaten Throw Rug!," the dwarf fumed.

"Oh, I'm sorry Grunram. This...' Kinoe seemingly lost in thought said, 'this is something I feel need's to be done."

The dwarf again demanded to know, "What are Yea doin?"

The minotaur nodded with his chin toward Tem's burial mound. "The way I see's it is, that's the path Tem took to Aslan's country. I guess you could say, beyond it symbolically is the doorway leading to Tash - and I'm planning on ushering this lot to the gates of his kingdom," He finished in a low, dangerous sounding voice.

Grunram as old as he was still got goosebumps hearing the childhood fable of Tash.

The wolf's carcass heaved against the cliff wall made a hollow thud before dropping into a fissure behind Tem's bier.

"Besides,' Kinoe continued, 'when spring finally does come, do you really want to see Tem's garden defiled by the likes of these traitors?"

Looking around for support from the others in stopping this desecration proved fruitless. The look on their faces told Grunram he was in the minority on this point. His right arm complaining as he threw them into the air, he stormed off in the direction of the sled. 'A swig of whiskey and a bowl of tobac' would go good right now,' he thought.

Rummaging around in the castoff medical waste Grunram located the tapped keg of spirits. A nearby sound caught his attention drawing him over to the sleigh. He could see that Fain's head lull in a way that seemed to restrict his breathing. The firkin set down on the sleigh's deck, Grunram picked up the satyr's head cradling it in his hands trying to ease Fain's discomfort. Their faces mere inches apart an arrow of shame pierced the old dwarf's heart for having so unfairly judged the kid's character. Hadn't Fain, in the finest example of a scout's dedication to duty, prematurely sprung the Witch's trap and like as not saved most, if not all of their lives.

* * *

**page 14**

Grunram feeling an ever deepening respect for Tem's bloodline averred, "Yea done good lad."

A little ways off, Azron leaned on Tem's bow with a look of inestimable fondness painted on his haggard face. "Is there anything I can do friend," he asked.

Grunram straightening, tried to wipe a phantom speck of dirt from his eye. "Shuren if yea look to the lad while I gather up some things, it'd be much appreciated," He said with a catch in his voice.

A smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Azron replied. "Sure Grunram... sure."

The storm finally broke while Grunram was trudging down to the stack of jettisoned freight. Retrieving Fain's cloak and Tem's other gift to Midway village, the second firkin, he angled his way up to where all this havoc had begun. Picking up Tem's personal gift to him Grunram jammed the pouch of tobacco into one of the pockets of his leather jerkin.

The wind began to howl anew as the dwarf shuffled back over to the sleigh. Lashing the firkins to the deck with some rope, he waited while Merbos folded one of the remaining blankets into a pillow for Fain's head. They tucked the satyr's cloak around their unconscious charge in an effort to keep the chill at bay.

Kinoe and Tobruk arrived to take up position behind the doubletree with Merbos and the two fauns getting ready to push from behind. Grunram and the badger settled themselves on the deck of the sleigh poised to steady Fain's litter. They set off north, north for Midway village. North through the ever increasing storm. North with the wind streaming out of the ravine at their backs howling like a banshee.

The bloodied little troop pressed on ever northward. Northward not knowing, nor caring if they had known, that they had just fought the first skirmish of a battle that would decide the fate of their Narnia - forever_._

**...**

The time is nigh, the stage is set. Soon, for good or ill, the destinies of The Child, The Witch and all the others will merge together in fulfillment of an ancient prophecy.


	5. Yesterday

(1,272 _words_)

(I draw inspiration for my stories from The Chronicles of Narnia in all it's manifestations, both canon and non-canon).

Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia are the intellectual property of Clive Staples Lewis and his legally recognized representatives. We just come here to play in his garden.

Warning: M rated for violence and drug use but mostly to give me some wiggle room.

page 15

_**The Narnians**_

"The lion, the Witch, the Wardrobe and Beyond"

~~~ chapter4 ~~~

**Yesterday**

Fain standing next to his mother Yvette was feeling what best could be described as slightly disoriented. Wrapping a comforting arm round her son, she gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He was a little frightened but at the same time thrilled by the idea of finally leaving their cottage, his home for all his eight springs to begin the next chapter of his life.

His father stood on the threshold, his bulk filling the doorway. "Say goodbye to your mother,' he announced in a cold, distant voice. 'It's time you were joining your brothers at the initiate's lodge to begin your training as is our custom."

Tem strode to the far side of the room and took the composite bow down from it's place of honor over the mantel, it was then Fain got his first inkling all was not as it should be. He could see someone had neglected to unstring the bow after its last use.

Holding the weapon by its lower limb Tem knelt down on a knee before his son.

"This is yours now Fain. It's my hope you'll one day get the opportunity to pass it on to your son as Landus my father passed it on to me, as Gallus his father passed it on to Landus. Father to son back to a time long forgotten when a deed by one of our ancestors so impressed the centaur they gifted him with one of their most prized possessions, this relic," Tem said as he handed the bow to Fain.

Fain was enraptured by the tale woven with so much passion by his father.

"The centaur of the west decorate their weapons in commemoration of great deeds. This one as you can see by the grip is marked only with our village rune," Tem alluded.

"I would very much like someday to meet a centaur," Fain piped.

"If any still survive," came his father's dark retort.

Holding the weapon awkwardly, Fain flexed the bowstring sideways across his chest a few times when it unexpectedly rolled off his fingertips.

"Fain, you shot me! Why in the name of Aslan did you shoot me son," his father groaned.

Fain watched his father collapse to the floor with an arrow shaft protruding from his chest. The sight of his mother standing frozen in place in the middle of the room, a blank expression painted on her face only confused the child more.

He now realized what it was that escaped his notice. His mother's home had no fireplace and there was no mantel. The dwarf crafted cast iron cook stove, her pride and joy was missing, in it's place stood a stone hearth and crackling fire. The Fire! The fire wasn't giving off any heat.

Dropping the bow Fain bolted through the door and ran, ran faster and harder then he ever believed possible. Soon enough he was forced to use all his strength to check his forward momentum before it carried him over a nearby precipice. Skidding to a stop, Fain found himself standing on top of the cliff that marks the southern end of the smuggler's road.

He could see from this familiar vantagepoint the green blanket of fair Archenland stretching away southward. Beyond that, a hazy tan horizon marked the northern most edge of the Great desert.

A commotion behind him made Fain wheel round and face his mother's cottage but it was gone. He was instead met by the specter of the witch's horde pouring through the mountain gap that led north into Narnia. They were hunting him, of that he was sure. He was also sure that if they caught him it wouldn't be pleasant.

Fain had a decision to make, either meet his end at the hands of his enemy or - Fain launched himself over the edge of the cliff where gravity waited to pull him down, he had made his choice.

The sensation of butterflies fluttering in one's stomach grew as he hurtled towards the valley floor. Oddly his approaching end concerned him less then the fact the sun was going to bleach his bones in a land other then his beloved Narnia.

The land rushing up to meet him Fain could make out every tree and rock outcropping. Every bush, blade of grass and patch of dirt came into crystal clear focus just before the impact. Striking the ground hoofs first with all the force of someone descending a stair step he sank up to his midriff in a substance that reminded him of lukewarm molasses.

The hole he made in the ground immediately closed back in around his waist trapping him. The color and texture of the foliage leading up to his body seemed somehow stretched and distorted as if someone had swept a hand across a freshly painted canvas. He started sinking further into the morass when he tried to free himself. It continued to pull him down even after he stopped struggling. Resigned to his fate, Fain let the ooze drag him down until darkness completely enveloped him.

**...**

He was floating in a void, for how long, he knew not, perhaps a moment, perhaps a millennium. He had no way of judging time but he was sure of one thing, he was cognizant of his surroundings, now.

A sound sifting through the emptiness touched him filling him with an overpowering desire to seek it out. He heard the sound again and this time he was sure it had called his name.

The blackness around him slowly dissolved into a mottled gray color as indistinct shapes began acquiring more defined edges. Musty smelling air assailing his nostrils mixed with metallic tasting ash that burned at the back of his throat.

The sound came to him once more. "Fain, Fain Dear. Can you hear me?"

A hazy apparition to his right solidified into a grayish pylon that continued to arrange itself into a more recognizable shape. He saw in this construct an image of his mother. 'Some how she has found me' he thought.

"Ma'... Ma' where am I," he croaked.

The entity took a step closer, as it did it's features transformed from those of his mother into a wild eyed monster. Fain struggling to escape the specter was slammed back down by a sharp pain as if someone had thrust a spear in his chest. The effort proved useless anyway as his wrist seemed to have been bound to some kind of rack. Despair washed over Fain as he realized where he must be.

Tied to a rack, his mouth and throat tasting of cold slag. A demon towering over him, taunting and inflicting such horrendous pain could mean only one thing. Somewhere along the way he had died and now his soul was imprisoned for all eternity in the land of Tash.

Squeezing his eyes shut he bleated out. "Someone Save Me!"

A feeling of hopelessness smothered him like a blanket as the truth sank in. He was beyond redemption now and there was no one left who could help him.


	6. Today

(3,769 _words_)

(I draw inspiration for my stories from The Chronicles of Narnia in all it's manifestations, both canon and non-canon)

Disclaimer: The chronicles of Narnia are the intellectual property of Clive Staples Lewis and his legally recognized representatives. We just come here to play in his garden.

Warning: M rated for violence and drug use but mostly to give me some wiggle room.

pages 16-19

_**The Narnians**_

"The lion, the Witch, the Wardrobe and Beyond"

~~~ Chapter5 ~~~

**Today**

Fain's outcry caused the specter to press the satyr's shoulders firmly against the rack.

"Fain? Fain listen to me dear,' the hellish apparition hovering over him mocked. 'You must do as I say. Do you understand me Fain. Try not to move around. Take slow shallow breaths dear, it won't hurt so much that way."

Something in him, Fain was not sure what, forced him to comply. He did as he had been told and the pain in his chest did slightly abate, with just a dull ache and the occasional lightening bolt of pain left behind. His eagerness to obey the demon's command left Fain with a deepening sense of revulsion towards himself. He was betraying everything he believed in, everything he ever fought for. He'd taken the first steps on a path to becoming a supplicant of the dark lord but he would have done anything to put an end to the agony he suffered.

Tears streaming from tightly closed eyes, Fain could only wonder, 'What did I do in the other world to deserve this?'

Peering up through slit eyelids at the creature bent over him the brutish features of the demon began to take on a more serene aspect. His vision clearing, the face he now gazed upon was that of Helria, Kinoe's mate. Relief filling him Fain realized he was in the Inn at Midway village.

It dawned on Fain what he had taken for a rack was a plank his comrades had used to carry him here. The bonds used to restrain him to that rack, just straps used to keep him from falling off the litter. The torture he was subjected too, injuries he had received somewhere out on the trail? The fire and brimstone burning his throat where just the ordinary smells of the room mixing with a small amount of coal smoke that had leaked from the stove the last time it was recharged.

The act of trying to lift his head brought on a fresh torrent of pain. Dropping his head back down on to the plank with a knock of horn on wood, Fain gasped, "How? Why?"

"You banged yourself up pretty good dear,' Helria gently advised. 'You need to lay quietly and try and get some rest. Later, we'll see about getting a warn meal into you and before you know it you'll be up and around quicker then two shakes of a faun's tail." She said with confidence but the concerned behind her eyes threaten to betray her true feelings.

Helria began her examination with Fain's head and neck before moving on to the crude battlefield dressing use to immobilize his chest. Satisfied with what she found, she ran a hand along Fain's right arm down to a firmly bound wrist. she was taken aback as her fingers touched his cold, blood starved right hand, leaning over she checked on the condition of Fain's other hand.

Helria unbinding Fain's wrists looked over her shoulder, inquiring curtly, "Did you have to make them so tight."

Two cloth wrapped boxes used to immobilize Fain's head blocked his view of Kinoe, who answered in a plaintive tone, "It got him here didn't it?"

"A lot of good that have done him if he lost them too," She said accusingly.

Helria drew a sharp breath and silently cursed herself for possibly having revealed too much about the condition of her patient.

Scooping up Fain's right hand she began vigorously massaging it in hopes of restoring a measure of blood flow. A sensation like a thousand tiny needles pricked the inside of Fain's finger tips as fresh blood began again to flow freely through his hand. The ability to move his arms, if only at the elbows was a relief. Holding up a blood deprived left hand Fain tried clinching together his near useless fingers but it felt to him as if the hand belonged to someone else.

The seed of a thought germinated in Fain's mind. Lost them too Helria had said. That thought grew into a question. 'What else have I lost,' Fain wondered. That question would bear fruit in the form of an answer. A fruit that would prove too bitter for his taste.

Steeling himself for what he might find, Fain reached out with his tactile senses. Probing down pass pain racked chest through a hunger knotted stomach he came up against an impenetrable barrier of nothingness. The will to live went out of him with the realization he had no feeling below the waist.

"O, why didn't they just leave me out on the trail to die. A meal for the scavengers is all I'm good for now," He lamented.

Looking down on the broken body of one she held so dear, Helria, more then most, could understand the abject desolation Fain must be suffering. Sitting there holding the hand of the stricken satyr, Helria's thoughts drifted back to those days not so long ago when filthy, half frozen and near starved to death, she too had longed to know death's merciful release.

She was wrenched back from her musings by Fain trying to wrestle his hand free of her grip.

"Oh. I'm sorry Fain, was I squeezing too tight," she asked in her gentle way.

Casting eyes in her direction he slowly said. "No Helria, I said let me go. Helria, let me die! You have the power to set me free from this."

"Fain, please don't say that! You've got to believe you'll get better," She chided him, sure in the conviction she could never do what it was he asked. "Don't talk like that dear," She pleaded.

"Helria - Helria your my friend aren't you? You always said you were my friend. Please - Helria please, you don't know what it means to be a satyr." Twinges of pain shot through him as he shook the hand she held so firmly. "This, this is nothing. I could lose this tomorrow or an eye... I could lose a hand and an eye tomorrow and get by just fine with out them but my legs, a satyr's legs are everything to him!"

"Dear, try to stay calm. Try to relax and don't think about that right now..." but she didn't get the chance to finish what she was going to say.

Fain put great emphasis on each of the next words he spoke. "Yesterday - I... could... have... leapt... up... on... to... the... roof... of... this... building. I have... as part of my training harried the wild cheetah for it's pelt. I can - A satyr can trot along all day and never weary, that's just a few of the things a healthy satyr can do with his legs."

* * *

**Page17**

"Know what I am now Helria? I'm a worm, just a worm wiggling on the ground. No, not even a worm, even worms have purpose. I - A crippled satyr is nothing more then a burden on those around him. A waste of precious resources better spent on the young and the elderly, even the old are of more value, they have wisdom to pass on to the generations. What could I possibly offer now," He ranted.

Pausing to Lick some moisture back into his lips he continued. "I... Know what becomes of a satyr when he can't use his legs anymore? The Will goes out of him. His spirit and pride wither like an old grape. He'll shun his loved ones and stop caring about anything. He'll drag himself off to some dark corner where he'll eventually rot away into a lump of putrid, disease-ridden flesh. Slowly going mad until someone, a friend or loved one takes pity on him and puts him out of his miseries... if he's lucky. Helria, will you be that friend?"

"Fain dearest listen to me, we owe you so much Kinoe and me. We'll never let you want for anything, ever," she promised in a weak voice.

This pronouncement only caused Fain's hart to harden more. Staring up at the rafter lined ceiling a bleak future was all he could see spread out before him.

His torment caused him to lash out. "Oh, I see how it is now. You've no kids of your own so I'm going to be your substitute. Some helpless babe you can wash and feed and fuss over. Well - no thank you Helria, just go away and leave me alone," Fain ordered.

Nearby, a massive hoof scraped ominously on the slate tile floor.

Fain for a moment felt regret for the hateful words he had spoken but just as quickly his dark mood returned and he was not sorry in the least bit. He wanted to make them all feel glum. He wanted to drive them all away so he'd not have to suffer their pity.

Helria's eyes filled with tears. Tears not for Fain's hurtful words but for the anguish he must be suffering. She was losing this battle for his soul using kindness so she decided to try a different tack.

In an authoritative voice she demanded. "Fain son of Tem, what would your father think if he could hear you?" The question however had unintended consequences.

"Father - yes father! where's father? Helria, get father for me, he'll know what to do. He'll know what I'm going through. Helria,' Fain implored, 'pleeeeese bring father here."

Helria's shoulders slumped under the weight of this new setback.

"Fain, I don't… I don't know how to..." She hesitated searching for the right words.

The rafters over her head disappeared as Kinoe leaned in. Taking her by the arm he gently coaxed her off the seat.

"Don't you think the willow bark tea has steeped long enough dear," Kinoe asked in a soothing voice, hoping to extricate the light of his life from her dilemma.

Helria having been liberated from this most unpleasant task gazed into his eyes. "Yes, I think your right dearest, thank you so much," she said in a weak voice.

Rolling her shoulders against the invisible weight of fatigue, Helria turned and shuffled off to take up her customary place behind the bar.

Those three little words, willow bark tea bought Fain a small measure of relief. A wave of nostalgia broke over him fondly remembering it's bitter taste.

That simple home brewed concoction his mother use to give him had been the treatment for all manner of aches and pains since the days of King Frank the first. Regrettably, the tender bark of the willow had long sense been harvested to near extinction due to the endless winter. The source of the potion now days was only to be found in distant Archenland.

Kinoe to the accompanying sound of a stool or perhaps a wooden crate being dragged across the stone floor sat down next to the youth. Placing a hand on the satyr's shoulder, he asked. "Do you remember how you came to be here Fain or anything that's happened since this morning."

Having gained consciousness just a few short minutes before to a host of unwelcomed thoughts and feelings, he had little time to think of anything.

Fain struggled, "I remember...I remember climbing the cliffs on the Archenland side of the mountains and I can remember crossing the ice fields.' He paused to take a few short breaths before continuing. 'I remember... I remember a snowstorm and camping for the night at Robbers Roost at the foot of the ravine. I remember meeting up with you and elder Grunram and I remember scouting along the ledge on the wall and I remember... I remember." He hesitated, shadowy specters dancing in the back of his mind.

Images began to take shape inside his head, the trail, the valley floor, his father and the others and, and. A fresh wave of pain nearly overwhelmed him as he lurched up against the rope restraints. A face of a wolf, jaw gaping, rushed at him. A memory so vivid it superimposed itself across his perceived image of Kinoe.

_" the wolf,"_ he rasped.

Insanity might have claimed him right then had it not been for the minotaur's firm reassuring hand pressing down on his shoulder.

"Fain, calm yourself and I'll tell you what happened. We were jumped by the White Witch's forces. Fain. You deserve to know the whole truth." Kinoe fighting back tears took a deep breath. "Your father,' he slowly let the breath out the rest of the way... 'didn't make it. I'm sorry.' He finished in a low voice.

His pronouncement drew an unreadable silence from the youth so the minotaur continued. "Your father sacrificed himself for the rest of us. Truly, it was a hero's ending. Taking on the hole pack single handed the way he did, it gave us a chance to get ready and that's probably what saved us."

Inwardly Fain struggled to keep his emotions in check. 'He was not going to weep,' he thought to himself. 'He would not cry. He would be strong like father,' but he could feel his resolve slipping.

He noticed for the first time the blood stained strips of canvas wrapped around Kinoe's torso, quite similar to the ones bandaging his own chest.

* * *

**page18**

Fain in a flat voice asked, "How fairs the rest of the gang?"

"I'm a little beat up but I'll get over it. Tobruk, Merbos and the fauns are fine but Grunram got a nasty bite from a wolf but he'll be alright," Kinoe said hoping a little good news might cheer Fain up.

"Regrettably, it looks like Azron will have to retire. He got his foot chewed up pretty bad. He'll surely need a walking stick to get around from now on," the minotaur said.

"If it helps any fain, Tem's death has been avenged. You should be very proud of your father," the minotaur fondly added.

"I always have been, Kinoe." He said fighting back the tears.

"I can't think of a better way to put this Fain. I guess what I'm trying to say is, what happened to your father, well I guess it's all part of Aslan's plan. We're just to shortsighted to see what that plan is," the minotaur offered.

The satyr lashed out, "_Aslan. Aslan_, why don't you grow up Kinoe. 'Aslan, Tash, their just fables mothers tell their babes to scare them into behaving. _"If your good Aslan will bring you a '__love'elly__ spring day but if your bad, Tash will come and drag you away to his pit," _Fain said in a mocking voice.

"Look at me Kinoe! Aslan. Where's your Aslan now? What kind of a sovereign lets his people suffer so and does nothing to prevent it,' Fain ranted. 'Oh no Kinoe. Tash, Aslan, they're just myths but you know what's real Kinoe. The White Witch - She's real, she's here - now. You can see her, you can touch her. She might even use her powers to help us if she so chooses. What more could you ask of a Ruler? Know what else Kinoe,' Fain raved, ' maybe her followers are right. Maybe Jadis is just trying to set things right and we're the ones getting in the way."

The already quiet Inn became still as a crypt. One does not invoke the name of The Witch lest one wished to attract her attention or so the legends say.

_"FATHER" -_ Fain cried out, the muscles of his chest suddenly constricting around broken ribs. Laboring to draw breath the pain in his chest caused him to arch his back up away from the pallet. Gulping air, he desperately searched for something, anything that would distract him from this new torment.

His head thrown back, Fain could see hanging from a nearby post his bow and falcata along with father's cutlass. The pain in his chest seemed to diminish slightly at the sight of these cherished mementos.

He with a deep sigh settled back on to the plank. The darkness gathering around him Fain heard in his mind Helria's earlier inquiry. 'What would father think of you now?' A long forgotten memory surfaced in response to this query.

**...**

He found himself standing in the dimly lit world of this surreal vision. His throbbing right hand stuffed under an armpit, the practice staff still clattering on the floor at his hooves.

Glaring angerly at father for having inflicted this pain and humiliation on him, the youth hissed through clenched teeth, "I thought you said this was going to be practice, Da?"

Tem's uproarious laughter did little for his son's self-esteem. Taking a step forward, Tem grabbed his son's bruised hand holding it up in front of Fain's face.

"It hurts doesn't it my son," Tem asked.

The child nodded his head vigorously in the affirmative.

"That's all right son, try to imagine pain as a friend, well not a friend exactly, more like a servant. A servant who's job it is to alert his master to issues that need to be addressed but understand this, you must not let the fear of that pain take control. Fear, not the pain, is the real enemy. Fear of pain, fear of failure, fear that keeps you from even trying to take action. These are things that will prevent you from reaching your full potential. There are going to be times in your life when you think you can't go on. These are the times we've come here to prepare you for," Tem averred.

"I can show you many things I know about weapons and fighting but the most important lesson, I can not teach you. You alone must discover in yourself those qualities that define who you are. The best trained sword, wielded by the most powerful arm in all the land is of little value if that arm belongs to a coward. The finest of intentions are meaningless if they benefit one's self first," His father said.

Son can you look inward and find that spark that pushes one beyond the limits they set for themselves? Does it fill you with pride to know you put the welfare of others ahead of your own," Tem asked.

"Courage and kindness, these are qualities I've tried to instill in you son. These elements will, over time, lend strength to your arm and add mettle to your backbone. When the day comes and it will come, that you must face failure. Face defeat with pride and dignity knowing you did your very best son and you will have turn that defeat into another victory. Now Fain, show me what your made of," Tem commanded.

Fain took a deep breath, his mind whirling with a myriad of questions. The youth had only partially understood his father's words but he would try to comply. He now understood much of his pain was an allusion caused by his fear of getting hurt. The actual pain that was left behind seemed to him more like a reminder then a hindrance.

Looking down at his hand, Fain clinched his numbed fingers into a throbbing palm. He felt mostly pain but the stunned hand still worked and it longed to wrap itself around the staff and once more take up the battle. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and understanding burned in his eyes. His father had revealed to him a powerful truth.

Tem's chest swelled with pride for his son. Learning this first critical lesson showed Fain had great promise and Tem would do everything within reason to nurture it.

With a hoof, Tem flicked the practice staff up off the floor, snatching it from the air he tossed it to his son.

* * *

**page19**

"I will teach you the things you've come here hoping to learn but understand this,' His father advised, 'Like most things in life learning the use of weapons is more a matter of rote. I'll give you exercises to build up your strength and endurance. Exercises you'll have to repeat over and over again."

"If you came here expecting to learn some outlandish moves like the hero in a bard's tale, forget it. All the fancy foot work in the world won't matter a tinker's dam if your opponent can just brush aside your attacks. This training will grow as interesting as gathering firewood but learn well these lessons, son and in the future when your called upon to defend clan and country they will serve you well.

"Now," Tem bellowed as he swung his quarterstaff lazily down. Fain raising his weapon just above his head, fended off the attack with a _clatter _of wood on wood.

"Now middle!" Slowly, the bottom of the staff was jabbed at Fain's midsection. His weapon making a _klunking_ sound, Fain turned aside the attack the way he had practiced in mock battles with his village brothers.

"Now, down," came the command. Tem again poked the end of the staff at his son, this time aiming between his legs. The staff swinging lethargically upward, Fain stepped to the side knocking away the shaft with the accompanying dull peal of wood on wood.

Tem again roared. "Now up. Now, middle. Now, down and again now up. Now middle, now down. Again, now up and middle and down," Tem repeated the cadence over and over, a little faster each time.

Fain began to feel lightheaded as he practiced the drill. Lightheaded truly, for the top of his head felt as if it was being drawn upward. Upwards, yes upward towards a light.


	7. Tomorrow

(3,344 _words_)

(I draw inspiration for my stories from The Chronicles of Narnia in all it's manifestations, both canon and non-canon).

Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia are the intellectual property of Clive Staples Lewis and his legally recognized representatives. We just come here to play in his garden.

Warning: M rated for violence and drug use but mostly to give me some wiggle room.

pages 20-22

_**The Narnians**_

"The lion, the Witch, the Wardrobe and Beyond"

~~~ chapter6 ~~~

**Tomorrow**

Fain desperately clawed his way up towards the light. The vision around him fading to mist, his father's words still rang in his ears, "Now up, now middle, now down.'

The mist fading, he found himself once again back in the inn's common room. It dawned on Fain he was not dead and now he wanted very much, not to be dead. Laying absolutely still, barely drawing breath, Fain began mapping out his future.

First, he had to figure out a way to again gain a measure of motility. The old village high elder back home used a crutch to help him get about, this gave Fain an idea. 'I could cobble together two crutches and lash on the hand grips so they can be moved up and down.

The next issue concerned the lower half of his body. His thoughts turning to the wooden plank he was secured to, he envisioned two wooden pikes he might strap to his legs and torso to give some support to his frame.

Sitting presented another problem. He could, he thought, articulate the splints with hinges of rope or possibly leather, making it easier for him to bend in the middle.

Ideas and plans racing through his head had to be put aside for now. The next question to address was, how might he best serve in the days still allotted him. The answer was obvious, if he could not take part in the defense of Narnia, he could at least provide tools for those who did.

His training for entry into adulthood included among other things weapons crafting. He, like most satyrs possessed only a mediocre ability in the field of blacksmithing but in the area of bow making, fletching and leather working he was exceedingly gifted. Provided with the proper materials he could have easily turn out five or six self bows in a day and finish them up on the next. Fabricating fourteen or fifteen arrows in the same amount of time would have been a short pony that was soon curried. The fleece lined leather greaves he turned out back in the day had been much sought after in his village and far beyond.

Satisfied he had found some small part he could still play in Narnia's future, Fain was also satisfied at having gleaned the answer to the question he had earlier asked himself. 'What would father think of him now? Father would be pleased to know his son was no quitter.'

Fain allowing himself a small sigh was surprised by Kinoe's astonished voice.

**...**

Helria standing behind the bar busied herself pouring tea into a waiting cup. The Inn at the moment was empty except for the survivors of the battle. The last shift at the mine and forges had yet to call it a day. The few loafers who were unlucky enough to have been hanging around the bar when they arrived had been dispatched by Grunram to retrieve the abandon cargo.

Across the room the blasphemous tirade issuing from Fain ended so abruptly it commanded her attention. Horrified, Helria watched her patient thrash about against his bonds, arching up before he settled back down onto the wooden plank. The long sigh he issued was taken by Helria as a sign the child of her heart had expired. Sorrow at the loss of her dear friend mixed with the knowledge that Fain was no longer suffering and he might at last know some measure of peace. Continuing the charade of tending to the satyr, Helria gingerly picked up the cup and started across the room to join Kinoe in his quiet lamentations.

**...**

Hand pressed down on the struggling satyr's shoulder, Kinoe felt emotionally detached. He had been preparing most of the afternoon for this eventuality but now as he watched Fain breathe his last, Kinoe paradoxically was filled with hope. Hope for the world that would surely come as long as there where Narnians who were willing to stand against the witch.

The crate groaning under his weight Kinoe took a seat resting elbows on knees and folded his hands together. He pondered which of the memories of Tem and Fain he cherished most. The first one that came to mind was the first time they had met but that memory was best saved for another day. He wanted an endearing memory that exemplified his feelings towards the satyr and his father.

There was no contest here though because the image that immediately came to mind was one he had experienced many times before.

A vision of him sweeping up around the Inn, usually just after sunset. The inn's main door banging open admitting a gust of wind, a few flecks of snow and a group of hooded figures. Tugging off ice burdened cloaks, Tem and Fain would continue a passionate debate over some obscure theological point, the rest of their crew wisely making themselves scarce. The elder of the two always seemed to be counseling patience and restraint while the headstrong youth would be demanding swift and decisive action.

These disagreements often ended with father and son seated across the table from each other in stony silence. The impasse was usually broken by Helria's arrival with a tray of mugs and a pitcher of stout.

Always the mediator, she had taken it upon herself to affectionately tussle with a gentle hand the hair on the poll of Fain's head. The laughter following this warmhearted display would be enough to start someone in the room recounting a humorous event that happened on the trail earlier that day. The friendly jostling and boisterous amusements that followed were usually enough to dispel the gloom, restoring a feeling of camaraderie to all assembled.

Propped on his imaginary broom handle, Kinoe dwelled on all the little joys and envies that had given him so much pleasure.

A false measure of envy towards Fain for the privilege he enjoyed questioning the edicts of authority. Young minotaur who questioned the wisdom of their elders in bygone times usually faced a long and loud dressing down over their lack of experience. Under the Witch's tyrannical rule anyone foolish enough to question _her_... died.

A small measure of joy towards Fain for the freedom he enjoyed in being able to question the edicts of authority. Growing up, it was drilled into Kinoe that the demanding ways of the minotaur had made them fiercer, stronger and braver then any of those soft, weak, lazy civilized races. After their rescue it had become clear to Kinoe just how fierce these supposedly soft races could be when defending their homes and families. Living among them he had come to understand there were many kinds of strength besides the physical. Strengths that endured long after the arm grows enfeebled.

* * *

**page 21**

He had been impressed most of all by the courage they exhibited when facing the unknown. Their inquisitive nature and insatiable appetite for understanding would send Aslan's disciples charging into the dark uncharted caves of ignorance with just the inadequate torch of curiosity to illuminate their path. This was a level of bravery no minotaur in the service of the Witch could ever hope to equal.

These revelations in the beginning had caused Kinoe a great deal of concern. He secretly started harboring doubts that he was up to the challenge of this new life. One night in that corner of the Inn that they had made their own, Kinoe confessed his secret misgivings to Helria.

Tossing aside their sleeping firs, she rolled up onto her lover's massive chest kissing him long and deep. His cheeks tenderly cupped in her hands, Helria with all her heart assured him that he had secured for her in this land the life she had always dreamed of.

The events of this day and all the days that had come before culminated in an epiphany for Kinoe. Midway village truly was his home now. This beacon of hope had guided a lost soul out of the shadows and into the warm waiting embrace of mother Narnia. All it had cost him to learn this lesson was the lives of his two dearest friends. A heavy debt indeed but one he'd gladly pay back by fighting to keep their dream alive.

The increasingly violent storm outside probed around the inn searching for an entrance. Kinoe, meanwhile, contemplating the sizable levy this day had demanded of them was wrenched from his reflections by a nearly imperceptible sigh. Like sunshine braking out from behind a dark cloud, joy spread over the minotaur. Tears beginning to run down either side of the bridge of his nose, Kinoe offered up a silent prayer of thanks to The Lion for Fain's deliverance.

Unable to mask his enthusiasm Kinoe asked. "Are you alright Fain?"

In a voice of utter serenity Fain answered, "Yes, I think everything's going to be fine now, thank you."

Concerned by the youth's sudden change of attitude Kinoe inquired. "Is there anything I can get you?"

Their eyes meeting Fain reassured him, "Thank you Kinoe but I don't believe there's anything I'll be needing right now."

**...**

Almost spilling the cup of tea, Helria's heart skipped a beat at the sound of Fain's voice. Braking into a tuneless little hum, she sauntered over to the two brightest stars in her universe. Approaching the pair she bubbled with delight over Fain's pronouncement.

"It would appear I've spoken too soon Kinoe. For yonder comes a maid, face so fair as to illuminate my soul, bearing herbs with which to soothe my broken bones," Fain invoked with great eloquence.

Helria upon her arrival used her hip to nudge Kinoe off the seat. Reclaiming her position beside the satyr, she tossed her lover a mock look of reproach for having upset her patient so. All the minotaur could think to do was don a mask of confused innocence and shrug his shoulders.

In response to Fain's lusty decree, Helria giggled, "Oh, my gallant swain", leaving some confusion as to whom she was talking about.

The teacup placed on the pallet she poked around in one of the pockets sown into the shoulder strap of her apron. Retrieving a small black lacquered vial, Helria picked up the cup and carefully measured a few drops from the tiny bottle into the analeptic.

The sight of the small orange and red banded vial sent Fain into a panic. Struggling against the ropes and the pain, Fain wheezed. "Please - please Helria take that away. I've never used that stuff. I don't need it. I don't want it. Please Helria - I know your trying to help but take it away - please!"

Confused by Fain's reaction, she followed the satyrs terror filled gaze back to the bottle in her hand. Understanding spread across her face.

"O, Fain. I appreciate your concerns about opium but in the proper hands, a small amount can be a most excellent pain reliever. Also it will help you get some sleep, right now what you need most is rest dear," she said, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Batting her eyes, Helria donned that seraphic expression that had so endeared her to the inhabitants of Midway village almost from the beginning.

Cocking her head she continued, 'Besides, do you really believe Midway's elders would entrust such a dangerous narcotic to someone unqualified to handle it?"

Father had in the past made these important decisions for him but he was on his own now and it looked like it was about time he started acting like a grown up. Bowing to the logic of her argument, Fain let go his fears saying, "I trust you Helria, do what you think best."

Exhibiting that legendary minotaur strength, Helria hooked an arm under the end of the pallet and lifted, elevating Fain's head so he could more easily sip the tea. Making sure he had finished it all, she carefully set the plank back down on the barrels supporting it. Standing, she heaved a satisfied sigh and waved over Fain's worried companions.

"You should get some rest now dear but first your friends would like to visit for awhile - and don't you lot go and tire him out too much, you hear me.' With little subtly she warned them.

"Helria,' - Fain called to her as she turned away. Reaching for the unsteady hand he offered to her she was startled when he grabbed hold of her hand with surprising speed and strength. 'I just wanted to say thanks for everything you've done."

"It was my pleasure dear," She assured him.

"No-no, not this. Not the potions nor the bandages. You'd have done as much for some injured bird or a kitten, I'm sure. I want to thank you for not giving up on me before, when I was more then ready to give up on myself. Compared to the life you've lived, mine's been one long picnic with just a hint of danger to spice things up. Now that I'm facing my first real test of character I folded up like a hammock, I feel so ashamed it makes me want to vomit," He confessed.

* * *

**page 22**

She tenderly stroked Fain's cheek with the back of her hand. "First Test? Fain - dearest Fain,' she cooed. 'Can it be you really don't understand? Can it be true you don't know who you really are? First test indeed. Dear, Narnia goes to sleep at night wrapped in blankets to ward off the cold, with enough food in our bellies to see us through another day, all thanks to you and your father and all the others. All them who spend their nights freezing under the snow. Their days, backs bent, shouldering heavy loads through all manner of weather. Out there on those trails, high and low, facing avalanche and the Witch's patrols and all manner of brigand north and south of the border. First test, indeed!

"Does it give you a small measure of comfort to know we sent you our hopes and prayers each night before we'd take our rest. Parents will tell their children fables of Aslan to comfort them. Nincompoops recite some vaguely worded prophecy believing they have all the answers - but we in this place know the truth. It's you and your friends who are the ones keeping alive the hope in Narnia's future," She declared.

Helria looked up, suddenly aware of the group of smugglers standing round her, a look of appreciation painted on their faces. Grunram standing to one side nodded his head in agreement with her.

Humming her meaningless little tune, she weaved her way through the small gathering. Head slightly turned she tossed a smile at Kinoe who with arms folded leaned casually against the nearby wall. His eyes followed her as she strolled off across the room to take her customary place behind the bar.

Helria's departure left behind an awkward silence that was dispelled by Grunram as he pushed his way pass the others. Standing over Fain, Grunram looked down on what he perceived to be the wreckage of once so promising a life.

"Lad, I know of no words to properly express the sorrow I be feeling right now at the passing of your Da'. He be the most selfless, most noble Narnian I ever knew. Iffin there be anythin you need, you just let me know, hear," Grunram stalwartly assured the youth.

On an impulse, he leaned in and kissed the satyr on the forehead with all the affection he might reserve for his own sons and daughters. "You get some rest now," he gently commanded.

"I will, thank you Elder Grunram,' Fain assured him. 'Oh, Elder Grunram? You ought to know father use to say pretty much the same thing about you. Many is the time I'd heard father say. 'Without Grunram there'd be no Midway and without Midway, there wouldn't be a Narnia today.' You deserve as much credit as the rest of us."

Squabbling among dwarves is as natural for them as agriculture is to a satyr or the arts are to a faun. Fifty winters, more or less, of mediating disputes among his own people had left him for the most part feeling bone-weary. The praise now lavished on him by these outsiders left Grunram with the feeling of a lump growing in his throat.

"Thank yea for them kind words, lad, and you can drop the elder honorific because I view you as an equal now," Grunram declared in front of the gathering.

The satyr wrapped his fingers around the wrist of the dwarfs battered arm.

" Elder Grun... - Grunram, a moment if you please, I've been thinking. I'm going to have to start getting around by myself, sooner or later. I've an idea of maybe using short lengths of wooden pole, hinged together with leather and rope to act as a body support, maybe with your help we could build something out of metal," Fain asked.

Fighting back tears, Grunram a moment before had seen only a life bereft of choice. His heart revealed to him now the truth his eyes had failed to see. A fire bed of belief in one's self, laid down over the years by Tem, being ignited by Fain's fierce determination to continue moving forward. Those first smoldering embers being fanned by his father's memory. A fire that over time would blaze forth warming the souls of those around him.

Fain's request set the old dwarf's mind wheeling. The duties of headman occupied so much of his time that the simple pleasure of working on some engineering project had almost been forgotten. Already Grunram's brain was furiously calculating formulas and fractions, at the same time sketching designs with his minds eye. Again an again he tried fitting parts together to no avail. All medium are equally honorable to a dwarf so after a few tries Grunram turned his attention back to the use of lumber. Making a few adjustments here and there, Grunram believed he had reached a workable solution.

"Well lad, as I see's it such a contraption would be highly impractical on a number of levels. Firstly is the weight of the thing. Second is its complexity, after all what if you should happen to hit a growth spurt. You'd then be needen to add all manner of superfluous adjusters just to keep up. Lastly metal has a nasty habit of rusting, you would probably be spenden more time cleaning the dang thing then wearing it.

"No, you had the right of it the first time. Wood is the most practical material for our needs, it be plentiful and easy to work with and also, I know of a couple of metal hinge designs that would fit our needs nicely. Ones with built-in stops to limit their movement. All you need do is touch them with a drop or two of fish oil or maybe some bacon fat now and then to keep them limbered up,' he paused, 'but we can talk about all this tomorrow Fain," Grunram promised.

Combing his fingers through the mane on Fain's forehead before turning away, Grunram shuffled off muttering to himself, 'Tomorrow Fain, tomorrow."


	8. Reckoning

(2,780 _words_)

(I draw inspiration for my stories from the Chronicles of Narnia in all it's manifestations, both canon and non-canon).

Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia are the intellectual property of Clive Staples Lewis and his legally recognized representatives. We just come here to play in his garden.

Warning: M rated for violence and drug use but mostly to give me some wiggle room.

pages 23-25

_**The Narnians**_

"The lion, the Witch, the Wardrobe and Beyond"

~~~ chapter7 ~~~

**Reckonings**

The two wooden boxes used to cradle his head prevented Fain from seeing anything other then the underside of the inn's rafter lined roof. The fauns, emotionally exhausted from the day's events wearily shuffled over to stand beside his pallet.

Asuls the more sensitive of the two fauns supported himself by holding on to Mosus right shoulder with both hands. Mosus in the meantime wrapped an arm around the back of his confidant resting a comforting right hand on Asuls shoulder.

The fauns began speaking almost at the same time. "Fain-fain, you-you...

Asuls stopping, nodded his head towards his companion in deference.

Mosus taking the lead continued, "Fain, look at what happens when we leave you alone for just a minute- "

"O, Fain,' Asuls moaned, 'what's going to happen now? You, badly injured. the captain's gone, Azron lamed for life."

His questions earned a reproachful look from Mosus.

Fain tried raising his head to look more directly at the fauns but found he lacked the strength to perform even this simplest of tasks. Heaving a sigh he let his head settle back down onto the plank. Listlessness and the absence of pain made it clear Helria's potions had begun to take effect.

"What's going to happen to us now," Fain parroted. "Me, I'll be going home. You two? You two will be getting back to work. You both had an oral agreement with Da and I plan on holding you to it."

Fain doubted he had any legal recourse when it came to the fauns, not that he would have exercised it even if he had. These two had always taken great pleasure in goading him, well, now it was his turn and he was going to make them squirm a little.

"Besides,' he went on, 'don't you think this is the perfect opportunity to add another chapter to that epic novel you two are always talking up. You know it's kind of amusing if you think about it. Our adventures together began here at the Inn, what was it, maybe three or four winters ago. Now it's about to end where it all started but I want you both to know I really enjoyed the time we had together."

Asuls overcome with grief broke away and retreated back across the common-room of the inn. His face buried in his hands, the faun struggled to hold back the tears. Mosus looking over his shoulder watched with concern the departure of his good friend.

Asuls upon reaching the other side of the room dropped on to one of the long benches. His elbows propped on the table top, face in hands, the faun's body shuddered occasionally as he struggled to hold his emotions in check.

"Go to him Mosus. Go to him and make him understand, Narnia needs you both now more then ever," Fain begged.

Placing a hand gently on the satyr's shoulder Mosus nodded his head before turning to rejoin Asuls.

Mosus departure was promptly followed by a tab-thump, tab-thump sound heralding the arrival of an aberration at Fain's bedside. the sight of this phantom froze him all the way down to the marrow of his bones. There was no mistaking the upper limb of his father's longbow. Fain would have recognized anywhere that fox hair silencer lashed to the upper part of the bowstring.

"Easy now Tobruk," came Azron's always soothing voice.

The space above Fain's head previously occupied by the fauns, Tobruk now filled. The bear staring down on him, the look of fear and confusion in his eye's was plain to see. Tobruk slowly lowering Azron onto Fain's berth held on until he was sure the badger was steady. Taking a step back the bear dropped to his knees, resting his elbows on the edge of the plank with his paws laced together. Tears began to stream down the sides of his face.

"Well-well, aren't we a pair," Azron sight as he rocked slightly back and forth on his good foot, his paws wrapped tightly around the bow.

"Does it hurt much Azron," Fain asked.

"Not much, Helria gave me a dose of that stuff she gave you and if I do say, I'm feeling rather pleased with myself right now," The badger murmured.

Fain nodded in agreement, he too was starting to feel good in an odd sort of way. He almost could understand why some one would embrace this drug induced perspective of the world over the soul crushing truth of life under the witch.

A notion sifted through Fain's fading grip on reality. "Azron you'll probably be getting back to the village before me, would you do me a favor and look up my ma, tell her what's happened.' Fain paused trying to order his thoughts. 'and please try to get her to understand I'm going to be fine. Knowing Ma, she would like nothing better then to have you around to fuss over until I get back, it will help take her mind off father and me."

"Of course Fain,' the badger assured him, 'but you should really ask Merbos to brake the news to her. He'll more then likely get there long before you or me.

"Where is Merbos,' Fain inquired. 'I haven't seen him."

Choking up on the bow with both paws the badger shifted his weight away from his injured foot, his face taking on a solemn expression. "And you probably won't see him either. Something happened back there that changed him, changed us all I guess you might say, anyway Merbos only stops by to check in on you and to thaw out a little before he's gone. I do believe he's obsessed with the idea of not letting us get caught off guard again - "

Tobruk just then began to whimper. "This is wrong Fain, all wrong, what's to become of me now. Your Da's gone, you and Azron all busted up.

Combing his fingers into the hair of the bear's wrist Fain tried to sound reassuring. "There-there Tobruk, your going to be fine, after all you've still got Merbos and Mosus and Asuls. I'm sure master Grun...' Fain paused for a moment. ' That is, Grunram can find someone to help. A third or fourth son of some dwarf who's growing tired of waiting for a chance to apprentice at the forges, maybe?"

* * *

**page 24**

"Tobruk, the team needs you, Narnia needs you and - I - need you. You work harder then the fauns and me put together, besides, who's going to make sure I have food once I've gone home,' Fain enjoined. 'Those nights huddled under the tarp, sleeping next to you was like having our very own personal stove to keep us warm. I'll bet you didn't know we often went on short rations just so you would have enough food to keep you going."

Tobruk's eyes glazed over at the mention of food. Drool started to drip from the corners of his mouth as he vigorously licked his chops. "Food, yes the food. The food was so good," He said oblivious to everything around him.

"When your turn came to stand watch, no one slept well until you got back," Fain added. "You turned those labors into a thing of joy. It's my hope you'll go on doing the same for someone else."

"Come along now Tobruk and let Fain get some rest," Azron gently cajoled.

Tobruk standing lifted the badger off the pallet and lowered him to the ground with all the tenderness one might show a small child. Azron turning, limped back towards the other side of the room with Tobruk in tow. the bear stop after a few steps and returned to the side of the satyr, looking as if he had just remembered something.

"I love you Fain and I love father too. He makes me feel useful and I'll make sure you always got lots of food," The bear whispered.

"Thank you Tobruk, I love you too and Father loves you too. He always said you fit in well with the rest of the team," Fain said, hoping to spare the bear further confusion concerning the loss of father.

Acting as if he had forgotten what it was he was going to say next, the bear wandered away leaving Fain with his thoughts. Thoughts of his father and of this day when his world was turned on its head.

Pangs of guild for not having been there with father at the end started filtering through the drug induced euphoria that was spreading over him like a blanket.

Hoping to distract himself from his growing melancholy, Fain embraced these all together new sensations. They at first reminded him of times he had had one too many mugs of ale but this was soon replaced by waves of pleasure cascading through him. He wondered if there were some way he could make these feelings go on forever.

His world began teetering and spinning wildly as paranoia reached out and enveloped him. Blind to everything but overwhelming terror, Fain frantically searched for something to hold on to, anything that might anchor him to his reality. Trapped within this living nightmare he felt something cool and unyielding filling the area of his body he perceived to be his left hand. Desperately he clung to this object as he fought to regain his equilibrium. Slowly, ever so slowly the crackling gray madness, punctuated by flashes of total confusion started to subside.

The grayness clouding his vision almost gone, he hazard a look to his left. Heart fluttering like a hummingbird, Fain fixed his gaze on his hand firmly clutching one of the cool, solid stones that made up the wall of the inn. The sight of it left the satyr with a sort of misery laden satisfaction.

Midway from the beginning had always felt like a second home to him. It didn't hurt that the buildings of the south all shared a similar architecture, this had always been of immense comfort to Fain. The main difference between Midway's buildings and others was that they were usually of double walled construction. The gaps between the walls usually would be packed with mine tailings or ground-up slag and cinders from the forges to better insulate them.

Eyelids growing heavy, Fain tried holding his demons at bay by focusing his attention on his finger tips. He ran them along the wall's roughly horizontal seams formed by stone stacked on top of stone. The drugs coursing through his veins left him with the impression he now possessed phenomenal tactile abilities. Each seam in the wall reminded him of the ledges of the cliffs he would never climb again. Every junction were stone met stone was a cave he wished he could escape into. Thanks to the drugs, Fain convinced himself if he just believed hard enough he could will himself into one of these caves.

**...**

A loud bang followed by a reverberating clatter brought Fain upright in his seat. Looking over his right shoulder he located the source of the disturbance. Tobruk the bear stood staring down at the freshly washed stack of serving trays he had just dropped, a look of confusion painted on his face.

His attention turned back to the mug of ale in front of him, Fain was met by the sight of his father seated across the table. The warm smile Tem flashed at him only partially masked the sadness in Tem's eyes, Fain could feel it too. Looking down at his reflection in the cup, Fain could not shake the feeling of a thousand voices whispering in the darkness just beyond the edge of perception.

"Auk', there he goes again that harebrained son of a goblin. It's looking like we'll have to be sending that one away," Grunram muttered. "I did do ma best trying to find a place for him but pumping the forge bellows is the only thing he's seems to be good at. Trouble is, that's a place of honor reserved for our best and brightest apprentices so they might improve their skills watching the masters work. I hope you be seeing the predicament I'm in Tem."

Tem's attention was focused on the dwarf seated to Fain's right.

"Has anyone figured out if he was born addled or was it caused by one of the many injuries he showed up here with," Tem asked of Grunram.

"Nobody knows for sure but truth be told, it duna matter. Ma resources are stretched thin enough as it is. I have none to spare wet nursing that pitiful wreck," Confessed the old dwarf.

Clearing his throat Grunram ventured. "You be a mite short handed right now Tem and well, I was thinking you could take him off ma hands. Iffin he don't workout you might just sorta', well yea know, leave him south of the border, If you get ma meaning."

Tem's expression grew hard. "I could not - and- would not - do that to another narnian. You of all people should know that Grunram. Your suggesting what amounts to a death sentence for the bear."

Venting a dejected sigh, Tem directed the next question at the enisled Azron.

* * *

**page 25**

"How do you feel about that Azron. You want to take Tobruk on as a sled-mate," Tem asked.

Sitting still as a statue, paws wrapped around the drink in front of him, Azron stared at nothing. Lifting the cup to his lips he took a sip before setting the cup gently down on the table, all without a waste of motion.

Acknowledging no one, he answered Tem in an uncharacteristically monotone voice. "Sure why not, there's a job to be done, right? That's what your always saying, isn't it Tem?"

The exchange between Grunram and his father brought back all the reasons for this feeling of melancholy, this pale shadow that lay over the Inn, this sense of loss. This was the day the mountains had claimed one of their own. This was the morning, in a raging hail storm, Ishum the beaver had fallen from the very top of the cliffs they used to bypass the Witch's patrols.

Fain had made a suicidal attempt to reach the beaver almost joining him. His father's strong arms wrapped firmly around his legs was the only thing preventing him from following Ishum into the abyss.

This had given Fain a front row seat from witch to watch the beaver arms and legs flailing, disappear into the mist below with just the sound of his screaming to mark Ishum's passing.

Insurrection had almost broken out with Tem's announcement that they could not afford to waste daylight looking for Ishum's remains. He did give them assurances that they would take the time to look for the beaver and do right by him on the return trip. This did little to ease their sorrow but in time they came to realize Tem had only their best interests at hart.

Those screams, those sickening screams, those heart wrenching screams and for Fain the sight of Ishum plummeting into the storm below had tormented the smugglers all the way to the Inn. Seated next to Grunram the memory of those horrible horrible screams assailed Fain's thoughts even now. He wanted ever so much to jam his fists into his ears, to block out those screams but all that would do was close out the world leaving him sealed away with only those screams for company.


	9. Nightmares and daydreams

(5,632 _words_)

(I draw inspiration for my stories from The Chronicles of Narnia in all it's manifestations, both canon and non-canon).

Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia are the intellectual property of Clive Staples Lewis and his legally recognized representatives. We just come here to play in his garden.

pages 27-31

_**The Narnians**_

"The lion, the Witch, the Wardrobe and Beyond"

~~~ chapter8 ~~~

**Daydreams and Nightmares**

The screams of Ishum still echoing in the back of his mind, Fain awoke with a start. He had drifted off to sleep again but like before, it was a sleep that offered no real rest. He felt as if his head was stuffed full of wool, a condition he attributed to the drugs.

The Inn's only window, its linen lined panels billowing in against the storm, illuminated the interior of the room with a feeble light. Given it's intensity, Fain judged he had been sleeping at the most a few minutes.

Anger clawed at the pit of his stomach as the truth he had suppressed for so long would be denied no longer, he was in for a long convalescence and there was nothing he could do about it. His agitation grew with the thought he might be bedridden for weeks, months or maybe even longer. Months to be spent enduring the pity of those around him but he planned to pay them back for their sacrifice. He would pay them all back, somehow, this he swore.

He longed to go back to sleep, not to rest but to escape the waking world, a chance to cheat the passage of time for a few more hours. He had one last duty to perform, to quash the distant scream still echoing in the back of his head. He hesitated doing this for it would mean besmirching the good name of beaver Ishum. He viewed the act as a stain on his personal honor. A black mark he'd have to work off again but what else was there to do.

"A satyr without honor might as well be in the service of the witch," Father used to say whenever he thought his son was digressing.

'Father in the beginning had tried to dissuade the beaver from joining their ranks, had he not,' Fain thought, hoping to validate the lie. 'Mountaineering was no life for A Son of the brooks and ponds, Tem had tried to explain. If Ishum couldn't see that, well then he had only himself to blame for what happened, didn't he?"

The Inn's door violently swung inward admitting a snow laden gust of wind followed close behind by three cloak wrapped figures. Fain knew he was dreaming but not the kind of dream one has when deep asleep. This was one of those shallow dreams, a dream born of illness. A dream that lays just beyond the waking world. He knew if he wanted to he could will himself out of this nightmare but why? Pain and sorrow was all that awaited him out there, in here at least was a world of his own creation.

He watched as his father, chin held high, fumbled with the toggle button that held the cloak around his shoulders. The normally mild mannered satyr was unquestionably agitated about something and Fain knew exactly what that was.

The other figures as Fain watched resolved them selves into Jakk and Xavier. He hissed their names through clinched teeth. These two had robbed him of his youthful naivete, his view of the world as black and white, good and evil, Narnian versus Witch. Associating with them revealed to him an ugly truth, some Narnians were just blackguards.

Tem had retired from a life of smuggling when his son reached his eighth winter. He had planned to take personal charge of Fain's education, guiding his son over the next four years in preparation for his entrance in to satyrhood. Four seasons later, Tem satisfied with Fain's progress decided the time had come to take his son and start a new crew of smugglers. Besides Fain, there was of course a place held open for their long time family friend, badger Azron.

Tem against his better judgment had given in and agreed to let that annoying little beaver Ishum, who had managed to steal his heart, to join the team. Providence seemed to be smiling on Tem with the arrival in the village of two strangers, Jakk and Xavier. Two satyrs who claimed to have traveled the length and breath of the kingdom in search of a means to strike a blow against the Witch.

Tem was at first delighted by the idea of spending time swapping tall tales with these brothers from another village. Fain for his part was enthralled by the saga these two fathers from the north told of their trek across Narnia. Their revelries proved to be short lived however. Father soon grew cold and distant towards his new crew mates.

Quizzed as to why by his son, Tem ventured, "Your training's done Fain. You'll soon be entering a world that holds many dangers. I am no longer only your father but also your team leader. Your first duty from now on is to listen to and obey my every command, immediately and without question. Do this and I'll be able to keep you and our mates safe.' Tapping Fain's forehead with a stubby, keratin wrapped index finger, Tem further enlighten him. 'Trust in the good sense Aslan gave you and you'll do fine son."

Fain felt confused, this was in no way the answer he had expected to his question.

**...**

Fain's eyes snapped open, he had without realizing it drifted off into a deeper sleep. The smells of coal smoke merging with pipe tobacco assailed his nostrils as sounds of increased activity assaulted his ears. By the dim light filtering through the window he guessed that it must be early evening. Utensils scraping on plates mixed with muted conversations along with the occasional sound of a mug thudding on a tabletop. The additional activity indicated to Fain the labors at the mine and forges must be over for the day. This night the subdued manner of the normally boisterous dwarves bespoke the esteem they held for their departed comrade and the concern they shared for his stricken offspring.

Visions of those two neer-do-wells, Jakk and Xavier remained lodged in his head. The way they had tried to win him over with flattery after they had lost father's trust stuck in his gizzard still.

'What a fine young satyr you are Fain. Your mother must be so proud of you. Wouldn't you agree Xavier,' Jakk might gush.

'Indeed yes, a most clever fellow and so hardy too. Why before you know it Fain, you'll be leading a party of your own,' Xavier would add.

Fain's sense of self worth had been greatly inflated by the attention accorded him by such worldly adults. Their comments and inquiries however began after awhile to make him feel uncomfortable. Prying questions about his fathers character or the relationship between his father and mother reminded Fain of the warning his father had given him in those first few days. Keep your eyes and ears open and use the good sense Aslan gave you proved to be sound advice. Fain started avoiding the two whenever possible. He also had developed a list of vague responses to help deflect their prying questions.

Fain's loss as an ally only increased the friction between Father and Jakk. After nearly a year of endless bickering the dam finally broke. Struggling north through a blizzard they reached Midway late one afternoon. The inn was fairly packed with smugglers who shared the idea of waiting out the storm in some measure of comfort. The enormous cast iron stove used to heat the common-room glowed orange around it's lower half from working so hard. A respectable gap had developed between the patrons and the contained inferno, even so its heat barely managed to touched the shadowy perimeter of the room.

* * *

page 28

Aware he was dreaming again or to be precise the same dream was being played out over and over in his head. Fain hated these delirium spawned nightmares, he never felt rested, just weary and apprehensive waiting for the dramatics to begin again.

He felt a sort of detachment, a specter watching the turmoil unfolding. Right on cue the door to the Inn yawed open admitting Tem and his two antagonist. If Fain needed more proof he was dreaming, he himself was the fourth figure to shuffle into the room. He watched with amusement his counterpart struggling against the storm whipped gales to try forcing close the inns heavy door, then to kick the old rug back against the threshold to block out the icy drafts. Fain's attention was drawn to the fact that his doppelganger looked the same age as himself, not the youngling of years ago.

Tem finally succeeded in working loose the button that held his cloak closed. Tugging the garment from his shoulders he violently shook the garment dislodging the layers of caked on ice and snow.

The irritation obvious in his voice Tem warned, "Jakk, I've said all I'm going to say on the subject so just drop it!"

"I'm just saying if we'd pushed on through the night we could have been here by day brake, that would have given us most of today and tomorrow to rest up," Jakk parried.

Like iron filings attracted to a lodestone, the loud exchange between the new arrivals perked the curiosity of the patrons seated at nearby tables.

Resisting the impulse to turn around, Tem challenged. "And how exactly would you have navigated through a snowstorm at night?" The instant he spoke these words Tem wished he could take them back.

Jakk jumped on the opening. "If it had been me, I'd have hugged the east wall of the pass all the way into Midway valley."

"And like as not have gotten us lost wandering in and out of those blind canyons that breach the wall for almost it's entire length. Not to worry though, I'm sure some friendly wolves would have given us a decent burial after finding our desiccated remains, if that's any consolation," Tem taunted back.

"Jakk, this may come as a surprise to you but your not in charge here and I'm getting sick and tired of you questioning my every order. Now listen carefully, if you don't keep your mouth shut and tend to your duties I will exercise my options and kick you off the team," he threatened.

Still not turning round, Tem nodded, "And that goes for your friend too."

Fain shared with his other self a similar opinion of Xavier. He wasn't really a bad sort. He, like most satyrs was just looking for a trip to belong to. His misfortune had been to fall in with Jakk.

"I am a brother of equal to you. My life experiences demand you give my words due consideration when you make decisions," Jakk pontificated.

Inhaling deeply, Tem drew himself up to his full height. Fain half expected father to pivot and fall on Jakk, raining blows down on his surprised quarry the entire time.

Tem did turn on Jakk but not in white hot fury. He instead displayed that picture of cool deliberation Fain knew so well. The captain's eyes went as cold and hard as the icicles hanging over the door.

Tem released the pent-up breath in a low sigh. His next words shared with the storm winds blowing beyond the walls that feeling of soul freezing certainty as he spoke. "That's it Jakk, I'm through butting heads with you. Collect your stuff and get lost."

Tem lifted his gaze over Jakk's shoulder to where Xavier stood, in a flat voice the captain inquired, "You sticking with your mate or are you coming with us?"

Xavier dissolved into a picture of complete indecisiveness. Shifting his weight from one hoof to the other, the satyr could not bring himself to look anyone in the eye.

"I guess,' Xavier stopped and swallowed hard, 'I guess I'll be going with Jakk."

"Right then, my credit's good here, I'll arrange to have the depo manager pay you what I owe you in food and trade goods,' Tem's eye lids narrowed a bit.' But only what your owed."

Jakk was convinced Tem wouldn't carry through with his threat. The Inn was no place for someone to be trying to fill out a team. The people here were already engaged and anyone thinking to hire them away at this point was likely to find themselves ostracized by the brotherhood.

Furrowing his brow, Jakk challenged. "Your bluffing, who will push your sled now, your kid? Don't make me laugh."

Tem knew he was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place but what else was there to do. Turning from Jakk to face into the room he took a deep breath.

"Anybody here not otherwise gainfully employed looking for work? I find myself in need of two able-bodies to help fill out my rota, anyone?... How about you dwarfs? Surely one of you has a second or third son they'd like to get out from under foot for a while. Pays fair and it will put vittles in your larder. I'll even take on a couple of wolves if you don't mind pushing, if you like I could rig up some kind of blanket harness and collars if you rather pull, ether way's fine with me."

"Haah! Wolves are no good at loading and unloading cargo, you know that,' Jakk chided. 'Now, if you'd ask pardon for your earlier display of rudeness I'm sure we can put all this unpleasantness behind us."

Planting balled up fists on his hips Tem did his best to ignore the other satyr. "Your sled mates are more then capable of making up and braking down the loads. I'm mainly looking for someone to move cargo. Come on, don't you want to ease the suffering of your fellow Narnians back home?"

The patrons near the entrance suddenly found themselves being drawn into the drama. The small knots of people gathered around tables quickly turned their attention back to their drinks.

Tem ready to surrendered to his growing sense of failure, a commotion on the far side of the room caught his attention. A hand appeared out of the shadows behind a group of seasoned smugglers. A second hand followed immediately after it.

* * *

**page 29**

"Oh- oh! Over here Captain- over here," one hand called out.

"Oh yes captain, over here! Yes, we're looking for work captain," The other hand added.

The sound of chair legs scraping on tile floor were followed by muffled curses and quickly offered apologies as two fauns, one rounding ether side of the table, dashed across the room. Dressed in pleated wool vests, long winter scarves colored muted shades of tan and brown trailing behind them, each carrying a trail worn duffle bag slung over a shoulder, the two skidded to a stop in front of Tem.

The smuggler captain was both vexed and amused by this new development. Fists still planted on his hips, Tam bent slightly forward forcing the two applicants to crane their necks up to meet his gaze.

"And how exactly did you two - kids_ -_ find your way up here," Tem asked, making sure he put the emphasis on the word kids.

The pair began speaking almost in unison but paused just as quickly.

The slightly more robust one continued. "It's like this, captain. My friend and me are a couple of adventures out exploring the world. Those nice folk who live in the village at the foot of the mountain told us if we're looking to broaden our horizons we ought to try this place," The faun expounded.

From deep within the room a voice boomed. "Chased you two loafers out of town. At's the way I heard it."

The room exploding into ruckus laughter annoyed the faun not in the least bit.

Tem suppressing a grin inquired, "If I'm going to hire you on, then I need to know a little something about you. Are you two blood? Are you orphans and if not, do your parents know where you are? How about what part of the country you hail from or why don't we start with something simple like your names."

The first faun introduced himself. "It's Mosus, son of Mornums. I come from the Downs of Owl wood. That's a place north-north-west of the old capital- "

Tem broke in. "I know where Owl wood is thank you. I don't need a lion blessed geography lesson."

Seemingly unfazed by the interruption Mosus continued.

"Now, The Down is a pretty cosmopolitan kind of a place,' the faun elaborated. 'People from allover come to settle there. Legends say The Downs never faced defeat at the hands of the Witch's lackeys and not from want of trying on their part, let me tell you. The old tales speak of almost constant attacks against Owl Wood in those first few decades at the start of the long winter but they ceased after awhile. The prevailing wisdom was She had just lost interest in the Downs.

"Now, this here is - ouff..." Mosus was interrupted by an elbow to the ribs as the other faun stepped lightly around him.

The fellow, standing tall and straight as he could manage, offered Tem an outstretched arm. Tem was most impressed by this display of maturity on the part of the kid. He felt a growing respect for the young faun as they clasped wrists. The hand shake conveyed to Tem a strong yet callow personality that put him at ease.

"Hello, my name's Asuls, son of Hustuns, it's an honor to make your acquaintance sir he gushed. My story, where to begin? I was born in that area known as Lantern Waste but I'm sure you know what that means. The Witch's followers raiding all the time looking for fresh sacrifices for her dark magic. When I was but a babe my parents packed every thing up and bundled the whole family east as far as we could get. We finally settled in The Downs at Owl wood, where Mosus family and mine became tight friends.

"We've stuck together like cockleburs ever since,' Mosus said as he stepped up next to Asuls. ' First it was playing at being daring warriors crushing the witch's troops. We later started fancying ourselves a couple of world renowned bards, dallying with the ladies and thrilling the crowds with our performances. We have as of late become consumed by the idea of writing The Great Narnian Novel.

It was here Asuls took up the narrative. "We kind of ran into a problem though. How exactly does one approach such a monumental undertaking when one has had so few life experiences to draw on. We talked it over and decided we'd just have to go out into the world and get us some of those. About our parents, if they really wanted us back home, they would have found a way to track us down. Besides that, the reduced strain on the Downs resources is probably viewed as a blessing. I do believe and I'm sure Mosus will agree with me that our folks would be comfortable with the idea of us being out here as long as he and I are together."

Wrapping a right arm across his chest Tem rested the elbow of his free hand on it. Using his left hand, he stroked the hairs of his chin. Taking this stance Tem hoped to mask the satisfaction he felt at the way things were turning out. These two were after all close to his sons age and Fain had worked out just fine.

Stretching out the sham a little further Tem announced, "Well-el, I don't know, it goes against my better judgment but we'll give it a try. We're heading north to Narnia anyway after the storm brakes. Younglings, mark my words well, if you two prove to be nothing more then a lot of bluff and bluster I will, I repeat, I will chase you back to Owl wood fanning your tails with the flat of my sword the entire way."

This threat only seemed to excite the two fauns all the more.

Tem heaving a sigh, pointed at the ground slightly behind and to his right. "Fain, " was all he said.

The dreamer experienced again the thrill he felt on that bygone day. He watched as the other Fain launched himself off the wooden crate next to the door he had claimed as a seat and scrambled up to his father side.

"Yes Father," he eagerly asked.

"I have decided to enlist the services of these two fauns to fill the vacancy on our team,' his father announced in a businesslike manor. 'Please escort them to the warehouse manager and have them outfitted for the trail."

Satisfied that contracts had been let and conditions met, Tem strolled off to mingle with his compatriots leaving in his wake a speechless Jakk.

* * *

**page 30**

Fain engaged the two fauns in the usual greetings and hand shakes followed by an awkward silence. Desperate to keep the conversation going, he cast about for a fresh topic.

"Mind if I ask you a question? Didn't it bother you to face the ridicule of a room full of adults or to have my father talk down too you like that," he asked them.

Mosus resting a hand on Fain's shoulder assured him. "Not at all friend satyr, not at all. You see these are exactly the kinds of experiences we've come looking for. As for your father, he's a treasure. We could not have dreamed up a more perfect model for the hero of our story if we'd tried for a year.

The awkward silence returning, Fain pressed on. "You said you came through the village at the foot of the mountain, that's my home. You maybe met my Ma', Yvette," He asked hopefully.

The fauns looked thoughtfully at each other.

"Um - no sorry. Nuh ah, don't recall the name," The two agreed.

Fain felt a little crestfallen but pressed on anyway.

"Perhaps' Fain inquired, 'You've met my sister, Sylvia?"

The explosion of uncontrolled belly laughter from Mosus and Asuls left Fain confused. Mosus wiping a tear from his eye slapped Fain on the shoulder.

"Oh, friend satyr if that little hellion is your sister then you have my condolences," He said between gulps of breath.

"Truly, that little she-demon seemed to take so much pleasure hounding us almost from the moment we entered the village. 'What are you doing there. How long are you staying. Put that down, that's not yours. I'm going to tell my ma. What are you two mumbling about, don't you know that's rude,' Asuls said in a fair approximation of Sylvia's voice. 'When we become famous bards that one will figure prominently as the villainess in one of our tales," he chuckled.

Fain smiled at the thought of Sylvia stalking the fauns around the village the way she did to him when they were but children. He felt a touch of melancholy at the thought his baby sister was fast approaching adulthood and these simpler times would soon enough fade into a precious memory.

Feeling his smile return, Fain realized Mosus and Asuls had in fact been truthful about their stay in the village. This fact immediately elevated the status of the two fauns far above that of Jakk and Xavier among the members of their crew.

Fain inquired further, "So, you two plan on becoming bards then?"

"Bards, thespians, authors, poets, musicians, what have you." Mosus said.

"All the little passions that define the soul of a faun," Asuls added.

"So your musicians too? I play the pipes a little, maybe we could get together in the evenings and play some," Fain asked hopefully.

Asuls seemingly out of thin air produced a diminutive pan-pipe and began limbering his fingers. Mosus raising his left hand high over head opened it. The free end of a concertina, as petite as Asuls pan-pipe, cascaded down as far as its bellows would allow. Scooping up the dangling end of the instrument in his right hand, Mosus squeezed it back together producing a long wheezing note. The compact size of the instruments the fauns wielded looked to Fain like something a traveling music instructor might carry.

The fauns broke out in a melody folks in these parts call 'The Rooster Flew Over the Roof'. Learning to play the pipes at his father's knee Tem had explained while a melody could sound the same all over Narnia, the lyrics might be totally different from place to place.

Bobbing up and down on the tips of his toes to the music's tempo a high pitched buzzing sound assailed Fain's ears. The annoyance reminded him of the mosquitoes back in Archenland that had tormented him so much. He found this difficult to fathom though because he knew even in Archenland it was too early in the season for those little bloodsuckers to have taken wing. Secondly, no insect could have survive the long frigid trip back to Midway.

**...**

Fain awoke basking in a warm feeling of contentment as the dream faded, unfortunately, the insistent droning sound still assailed his ears. His first thought was to check the window and to his surprise it had been closed off by a heavy wooden shutter. This plug had two metal sliding bars, one on each side to lock it in place.

The cloth embedded in the window's frame to keep out the weather had apparently succumb to the violence of the storm. The wind now forcing it's way in around the shutter was causing the threads and bits of shredded linen to stand out horizontally, making them vibrate like the reed on a musical instrument.

The sounds of snoring and heavy breathing coming from the weary souls sleeping on the tables and benches around him reinforced Fain's belief that it had to be near or just after midnight. The remnant of candle on the bar cast dancing shadows among the inn's roof rafters. Further proof to him Midway's denizens had gone to their beds.

Laying in the near dark his thoughts drifted back to a time he still believed some higher power was guiding their destinies. The arrival of Mosus and Asuls at that precise moment in his life could only have been an act of providence or so he thought. This event had proven to be the turning point of his life as a smuggler. Up to then his perception of life on the trail had been tainted by the unceasing grumblings of Jakk and Xavier.

The hardship of days hauling cargo through the mountains would be followed by long frustrating nights listening to father and Jakk having at each other. This all changed for the better with the fauns. The days that had previously been spent toiling at the back of the sleigh listening to the two satyrs prattling on about themselves caused him to loath them all the more. The chore now shared with Mosus and Asuls was anything but a labor.

The fauns had proven to be adequate at lugging cargo but their real contribution came in the form of good natured haranguing they aimed at everyone, including each other, helping the hours to fly by, and the nights.

Ah, the nights, the long nights huddled together in misery became little gala affairs thanks to the fauns. Settling down for the night in some cave or crevasse father had guided them to, the fauns would regale them with all manner of song and story while the others sat enjoying a meal.

* * *

**page 31**

The depth of their abilities seemed almost bottomless to him. They could tell the same story three nights in a row and just by changing a few details here and there, the listener could almost imagine they were hearing for the first time a completely different tale.

The illusion of time swiftly passing, Mosus and Asuls might juggle snowballs by fire light. First side by side, then back and forth to each other nary missing a beat. They would sometimes slip their belt knives into the mix for an added thrill. Other nights they might offer their interpretation of heroic deeds from Narnia's past.

Bobbing up and down on their imaginary winged Pegasus, Mosus in the role of the renowned paladin Digory Kirke and Asuls as his most gracious lady Polly Plummer would streak across the skies of Narnia in a race to thwart the nefarious plans of the evil queen.

They might at other times put on a play drawing inspiration from the reign of good King Frank the first. Mosus would strut around with his tummy puffed out making him look less like a king and more like a storybook illustration of Father Christmas. Asuls, in a comically shrill female voice, would note all the wonderful pronouncements that were to guide Narnia through the centuries to come.

Tugging at heartstrings, the soul stirring dirges sung around the fire or nights recounting loves lost and good times never to come again would bring a tear to the eye. Spirited rondels performed on their instruments, the fauns would prance and twirl like fleas on a hot skillet, all for the enjoyment of their comrades.

Their comrades and anyone else fortunate enough to be in the area that evening. Tem's little group had gained quite a reputation among the brotherhood as the team to caravan with.

Crammed into some hole in the wall come night time, the enthusiasm of the audience seemed to spur Mosus and Asuls on to greater effort. He remembered his father telling him on more then one occasion that if things had turned out differently, Mosus and Asuls in all likelihood would be performing before kings and queens and heads of state by this time.

The joy of these memories all at once was smothered by a feeling of overwhelming sorrow realizing this part of his life was over, forever. He felt his heart rend in two by despair, a feeling that seemed to reach all the way to the pit of his stomach.

Not ready to yield to this malady of spirit Fain searched for memories of better times. Times when the day ahead seemed so full of promise, so full of life. That joy he felt when returning home with another consignment of aid or the chance to see the seasons change during their trips to Archenland.

Above all was the pride he held for Tem. Father seemed to exemplify The Lion's own luck sometimes. After all, had he not gathered up the living flotsam that was sometimes cast upon the shores of Midway village. Had he not from this wreckage extracted diamonds, diamonds in the form of Mosus, Asuls and Tobruk.

His heart broke again remembering the day the mountain claimed the life of beaver Ishum. Their grief would be allayed somewhat when father agreed to assume responsibility for the perplexed bear. This burden proved to be a blessing as it turned out Tobruk was a perfect match for father's little rag tag band of scalawags.

Reminiscing about those bygone days bought the smile back to his face helping to sooth the pain in his heart. He quietly chuckled remembering the spectacle they had made of themselves the first time Tobruk had tried pulling the sleigh.

The good natured laughter of onlookers filling his ears Fain tripped over his own feet planting his face in the snow, Asuls right beside him. Mosus, teetering forward tried to keep up as the sled darted away from him. Up front clinging on for dear life Azron was being dragged through the snow leaving behind him a wide furrow as he shouted repeatedly 'Stop-Tobruk-stop! Father, laughing as hard as everyone else, stretched out his arms reining in the bear.

They had faired little better on their second attempt. Bent at the waist the three of them staggered forward when the sled raced out of their reach. His tracks widely spaced in the snow Azron was struggling to keep pace with the bear.

The muted laughter this time sounded to Fain somehow forced, as if it were being issued from hearts more dark, more deceitful. Hearts seeming to take pleasure looking down on the misfortune of others. A shocking reminder to him, not all narnians wished their neighbors well.

They, far from giving up tried again. The third time would prove to be the charm, sort of. Waiting on father's command to start, he and the fauns lightly pressed their finger tips against the back of the sleigh's lode. The order having been given, the sled lurched forward forcing them to quick step in order to keep up. Striding along on the sleigh's left flank, Father had turned, giving the reinvigorated crowd a wave of appreciation.


End file.
